Poison
by McTuckerAddict
Summary: "Look," He starts, eyes still closed as he raises a hand to massage his temple. "I just want to work on this stupid project without being interrogated. I know you don't like me. I'm trying to make this as painless as possible but you're making that really fucking hard, dude." Damn. Maybe Kenny's smarter then i give him credit for.
1. Prologue

Poison- Prologue

Poison: something harmful or pernicious; a substance with the ability to impair health or destroy life. I knew someone who was like a sweet type of poison to me. He had the ability to destroy my life; leave me numb and cold. And he did, in a way. Just not the way you'd think.

Numb: deprived of physical sensation or the ability to move; cold.

Isn't it such a weird word? So descriptive, yet leaves you with questions.

Weird: unearthly or uncanny; fantastic; bizarre.

Weird is a weird word. He was weird. But he was the enthralling kind of weird you would see in some corny TV special or a boring story you have to read in class. He was like that, just genuinely better. Actually, He wasn't weird; he was just different. Real. Alive.

Different: not alike; not ordinary; unusual.

Some strive to be different, others yearn to blend in. Only those who yearn can truly be different. He told me that once. But like I've said before, he was different.

Yearn: be moved or attracted to; to long.

It's easy for someone to yearn. I've yearned for him to be at my side for a long, long time. But the universe's biggest form of separation has done its job and separated us. I'm still trying to convince myself that there's nothing i could have done for him, but the guilt is still heavy.

Guilt: the feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime or wrongdoing, whether real or imagined.

My guilt for what happened is my poison. When i wake up it's the first thing i think of. Well, that's a lie actually. I think of his eyes. His beautiful, crystal blue- sea green-stormy gray eyes. They were never really one color, yet they always seemed to blend perfectly. They haunt me. He haunts me.

Poison: something harmful or pernicious; a substance with the ability to impair health or destroy life.

He is my poison.


	2. Chapter 1

Poison- Chapter 1

I hate everyone. I really do. I hate my English teacher for paring me up with Kenny goddamn McCormick, i hate myself for not disagreeing with her and most of all i hate Kenny. I hate Kenny for not only existing, but existing within the same vicinity as myself.

It's a mystery to me how he even got in to AP English. He doesn't look smart, he doesn't act smart, and he doesn't even talk as though he's got a slight understanding of the English language. Hell, he barely even talks. I've only ever even heard his muffled speech once or twice this year and it's already May. In those two full sentences, he spoke like he's never picked up a text book in his life.

I sigh heavily, letting my head fall onto my desk as everyone gets up to start collaborating with their partners about the poetry project. Collaborating, sure. They're totally not going to just aimlessly talk about unimportant shit together. I hope Kenny has enough sense to at least know I'm not fucking moving. He can haul his ass over here.

Poetry. It had to be a poetry project. I suck at poetry. I'm not good at rhyming; I'm not good at counting syllables or any other shit that goes into good poetry. And i know that you don't need any of that that poetry can mean whatever you want or look however you choose. I know that. It's just that poetry has to have a certain power behind it; a power that i can never seem to capture correctly.

Come to think of it, if _I_ barely made it into AP, how the hell did Kenny manage?

A hesitant tap on my shoulder rips me out of my turmoil and i look up, my cheek still pressed to the desk. What i see makes me want to beat my head against the crème colored plastic.

Hey, new record: it's only first period and I'm already pissed beyond belief.

"Uh, hi." Kenny says quietly, lowering into the desk adjacent to mine. I grunt something resembling a greeting and close my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control. I hear Kenny unzipping his backpack next to me, pulling something out and letting it fall onto the desk. Slightly curious, i see two notebooks and his binder in a small pile, balancing precariously on the edge. As he bends to get something else, i see the minuscule mountain start to topple over.

Before i can even get a word out, Kenny's grabbed all three objects in midair with an amazing amount of both speed and fluidity, holding them all in one fist. I stare at him, gawking slightly. I never knew a human could move so quickly and actually achieve what they were trying to do. Casual, he sets his books back where they belong, digging a pen out of the front pocket of his worn backpack.

"So, i was thinking we could-"

"How the hell did you manage to do that?" I cut him off mid-sentence, still stuck on the super-human abilities he's just displayed. He raises an eyebrow at me, obviously confused.

"Catch my books?"

"Yeah. How did you do that?" Kenny's gaze slides to his desk, then back to me.

"I just did it, dude; i don't know how." He says, shrugging as he turns back to his open binder. I notice he has a notebook open as well, though it doesn't look like one he'd use for school. It's got a gray cover with scribbles and drawings all over it. There's odd little paragraphs of writing that are all clustered at weird places on the page. "So, anyway, i was thinking that maybe we could base our poem off of something i like by-"

"What's in that notebook?" I ask, cutting him off once again. He closes his eyes, slamming the cover of his binder closed.

"Look," He starts, eyes still closed as he raises a hand to massage his temple. "I just want to work on this stupid project without being interrogated. I know you don't like me. I'm trying to make this as painless as possible but you're making that really fucking hard, dude."

Damn. Maybe Kenny's smarter then i give him credit for.

Unable to formulate a complete thought, i just urge Kenny to continue with a curt nod. I barely listen to him as he begins to talk again; i end up just telling him to meet me at my house after school then he ignores me, favoring instead to scribble in his mysterious Notebook With The Gray Cover.

"Why won't you let me see what's in the notebook?" Kenny's head snaps up, his eyes filled with utter surprise. I think he forgot i was even there.

"Why do you want to see what's in the notebook?" He responds slowly, his arms moving to cover the page.

"What's so important about that book?"

"Nothing that would matter to you." I sigh irritably, rubbing my eyes.

"Fucking fine dude. I don't care that much anyway." I mutter, my head clunking back onto the desk. But i do. I do care. I care an insane amount. I'm a curious bastard sometimes and i forgot how much i hate it.

When the bell finally rings, i heave my backpack onto my shoulder and walk out of the classroom, alone. I don't like being alone sometimes; mainly when i have something to think about. Don't get me wrong, i love my alone time. It's fucking precious. My thoughts get too weird and deep sometimes and I just wish that Clyde would randomly come up to me, running his mouth to distract me like he always does. He never really talks to me, though. More like at me. None of my friends talk to me, come to think of it. Only Tweek does. But he'd never randomly approach me in the hallway. He only gets the nerve to speak up when we're alone or with a small group of people. He's too timid.

And i think i scare him a little bit.

I shove one hand into my sweatshirt pocket and the other loops around the strap on my backpack, my fingers curling against the rough black fabric. As i walk into my second period class, i catch a glimpse of Kenny with his head down, his fingers dancing across the touchpad of an outdated iPod Classic. Dirty white headphones wind their way out of his pocket and i notice they're hidden under his hood. Fuck, he's clever. Did he have those on in English? I never even thought of that, damn.

Okay, he's a lot smarter than i gave him credit for.

-x-

At lunch, i slide into my usual seat next to Tweek. Everyone is already deep in conversation, practically ignoring my presence.

"That's not how it works, fatass!" Kyle yelps, gritting his teeth and jumping to his feet. His face is almost the same color as the hair he hides under his hat. "It's part of my religion!"

"But wait," Cartman starts, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Kyle, who's directly across from him, scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You're missing part of your dick?"

Okay, that's enough. I'm out. I mean, i like dicks... but i don't want to hear about a piece of Kyle's that may or may not be missing. That's far too much information.

I open my lunch and take a bite out of my sandwich, pulling my phone from my pocket. Sighing heavily, i scroll through my music library and choose a loud song, to block out the noise. After a few blissful minutes of just me and my music, i feel as though someone is staring directly at me, effectively ripping me out of my own comfy little world. Everyone at the table has their eyes trained on me.

Except for Kenny, who is still staring at his notebook.

This, for some reason, pisses me off an irrational amount.

"What are you assholes looking at?" I ask irritably, crossing my arms. My gaze slides to Kenny, who doesn't even spare me a glance.

"We're trying to see what kind of lyrics could possibly go with such gay sounding background music." Clyde explains, pursing his lips and leaning in as though it were some sort of glaringly hard scientific question. I narrow my eyes at him, my gaze hardening.

"It's not gay." Kenny says, finally pitching in to the conversation. I blink a few times, everyone's attention turning to him. He stares at them, looking bored. "It's The Scientist, by Coldplay. It's a good song."

"How did you know that?" I ask, crossing my arms. Kenny just shrugs at me.

"Not hard to figure out. Just take the rhythm of the notes you hear and match them up with any song you already know. Then just take the voice you think you hear and narrow it down that way, too." Kenny explains, digging me further and further into fascination with him. "Plus, i love the song. Is that the live version?"

"Yeah," I say, stunned. Kenny smiles slightly.

"That's the best." He says, turning back to the notebook. Its silent for another few moments before the conversations pick back up, successfully leaving me behind to stare at the blonde.

He's a fucking genius.


	3. Chapter 2

Poison- Chapter 2

When I get home from school, my mom catches me before my backpack is even off my shoulder.

"Craig Thomas Tucker, don't you even think for a second you can skip out on your responsibilities for another day by holing up in your room." She barks from the kitchen, a wisp of blonde hair visible from where she sits at the table. I groan and trudge in silently, crossing my arms and leaning on the door frame. "You didn't clean out the attic like I asked you to."

"Fuck, mom, alone?"

"Language." I roll my eyes, shifting to my other foot.

"I have a..." What is Kenny anyway? I don't really hate him anymore; not like I did before, at least. I don't know why I don't hate him as much as I did, but I don't. Maybe it's because he likes my music or something. "...an acquaintance coming over to work on a project."

"You can start work on the attic before they get here." Mom says, tapping her nail on the ceramic coffee mug in her hand. I groan again, letting my head fall backwards. "If you want to move in up there, you're going to have to clean it out."

"But-"

"Go, Craig." She says, pointing to the stairs. Instead if arguing anymore, I just trudge up the stairs and unfold the ladder leading to the attic, pulling my sleeves up. It's dusty and gross, with poor lighting and useless crap everywhere. Luckily, almost everything is packed away in boxes, save for a few huge ass pieces of furniture that Clyde or someone can help me with. I really just have to move the boxes into the garage then clean the dust out. I like how it looks already, so I don't really want to paint or anything. I've got it all planned out.

I start by moving some of the heavier boxes towards the latter, so I can haul them downstairs after Kenny leaves. As I'm doing so, I hear someone climbing and look up, wiping my hands off on my jeans.

"Someone's at the door for you." My sister says, looking around. "You really didn't do shit up here, did you?"

"Fuck you, Ruby. I've been up here for like five minutes, calm your shit." I mutter, pushing past her. She rolls her eyes, following me closely down the steps.

"Do you think mom will let me have the basement? Because I don't think it's fair that she let you move to the attic but forced me to keep my crappy little closet." She goes on and on about the size of her bedroom constantly. I turn on my heels.

"If you shut up and leave me alone, I might consider letting you have my room."

A wide smile spreads across her lips and she nods, turning into the den and leaving me alone. Breathing a small sigh of relief, I open the door and stare at Kenny blankly.

"Uh... Hey," He says, hand tightening on the strap if his backpack. He looks nervous or something; uncomfortable, maybe.

"Hey," I say back, stepping aside as he walks past me. He follows me up to my room and doesn't skip a beat, already wanting to get started.

"Did you do any rough drafts?" He questions, sitting cross legged near the door as he pulls some supplies out of his backpack. I lower myself into my desk chair, shaking my head silently as I watch him curiously. He sighs dejectedly at me, rolling his eyes. "Really?"

"Sorry, asshole." I mutter, crossing my arms. "I can't write poetry."

"Are you serious?" Kenny squints at me, disbelieving. I nod, shrugging one shoulder. "It's just writing, in a different way."

"No, it's not."

"But it totally is." He says confidently. "Ask anyone. It's not that hard.

Especially since our teacher gave us free reign over what we want to do."

"Oh really," I stand and glare down at him, my gaze narrowed. "If it's so easy, show me something you wrote." Kenny stares at me for a moment, weighing his options before he bursts out laughing. I lose a bit of my physique, my shoulders drooping and my expression faltering for a moment.

"You don't want to read anything I write." He says, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "You're too..." He looks me over, his nose crinkling under his bandana.

"I'm too what." It's more of a statement than a question, really; but it sounds better like that. More menacing.

"You're too normal." He finishes, shrugging. "I don't write normal shit. Even my name on the top of the page looks warped."

"Fuck you asswad," I start, flipping him off. "Just let me see. Can't be that bad. It is just writing, in a different way." I throw his words back at him with a sneer. He squints at me, eyes locked.

"If you really want to see," Kenny begins with a mysterious twinkle in his eyes.

"You can. But you've got to write a first draft- without any help from me. Then maybe i might consider letting you read something of mine; only after you see how easy it really is."

"Wait a minute." I cross my arms, grinding my teeth. "You 'maybe might consider' letting me see? How the hell is that fair in the least?" The corners of Kenny's eyes crinkle in a wide smirk.

"It's not fair, that's the point." He mimics my stance, folding his arms over his chest and leaning on one leg. "If you really want to see something as bad as you make it out to be, you'll do just about whatever i say."

"Dude, what the actual fuck." I say, recoiling slightly. "You sound like Cartman."

"Where do you think he gets it?" Kenny's smirk grows. "Told you I'm screwed up.

Now imagine stuff like that written in words. Detailed, in-depth, actual words."

"Holy shit."

"Exactly."

"Fine." He raises an eyebrow. "I'll write a goddamn poem. Just don't fucking kill me in the process of manipulating me like a madman." I grumble, grabbing my backpack off my bed.

"So, how long do you think this is going to take you?" Kenny asks, smug sarcasm dripping from his words. I sock him in the arm, earning a satisfying curse in reply from him. He lowers himself onto my bed, kicking off his boots and folding his legs under one another. Crossing the room, i sit down at my desk and stare at the paper, every English word I've ever learned deserting me in a split second.

"Goddammit," I mutter under my breath. I have no patience, with anything. Even the goddamn attic. I'm literally too lazy to try and fix my own room. My mom has to remind me about something i bugged her about for months. I sigh heavily.

"But what do i even write about?" I ask, spinning around in the chair. Kenny's head snaps to face me, his expression slightly distracted. He stares at me silently, his face changing into a look that says 'why the actual fuck did i get paired with this idiot?'

"Just... think about it for more than two seconds." Kenny says, shrugging. "But try not to concentrate, that blocks ideas." That has to be the two most contradicting statements I've ever heard.

"...what?"

"Don't concentrate."

"That's..."

"Retarded?"

"Well... Yeah. How can you think hard about something without concentrating?" I ask, so completely confused it's a wonder i can even still draw together complete sentences.

"Have you ever daydreamed?" Kenny asks, leaning back against my headboard. I blink a few times.

"But if you daydream how can you concentrate?"

"You can't." Kenny says, exasperated. "You write about what goes on in that weird, semi-conscious state of mind you're in when you're daydreaming. That's how i used to write."

"How do you do it now?"

"I dunno." He says quietly, breaking eye contact. Staring at his lap, he continues to speak. "I just do it. I do it when I'm angry or really upset about something. I guess it's my form of crying or sports or boxing lessons, you know?

It's my way to cope. I haven't really given it that much thought."

He even talks like a poet. How the hell could i ever think this kid was an idiot? He's smarter than the teacher.

"Uh," He looks at me, rubbing the back of his hood awkwardly. "Sorry." He crosses the room, taking the pen out of my hand. "Just write about what's around you. You just thought about me contradicting myself, right?"

"Yeah."

"So write something about that." He says, scribbling the word 'CONTRADICTIONS' at the top corner of the page then handing the pen back to me.

"Um..." I mumble, staring at the word. Kenny sighs heavily, grabbing the pen back from me. He pulls the notebook closer to him, leaning on the desk as he scribbles something quickly on the page.

"There." I stare down at it, my eyes dancing over the ink-bled letters Kenny goddamn McCormick just wrote for me in like three seconds.

I am an overachiever, yet i do nothing.

I am always stressed, yet i continue to procrastinate.

I am lonely, yet i do not seek a friend.

I crave attention, yet i hide from the world.

I am a great listener, yet i have no patience.

I am hard working and diligent, yet i achieve nothing.

I have countless thoughts, yet i do not express them in any way, shape or form.

All i am is

A contradiction.

A living,

Breathing,

Contradiction.

"Wow," I breathe. Kenny shrugs, placing the pen in my outstretched hand.

"I didn't really concentrate on it." I look at him, my shoulders drooping in complete irritation and perplexity.

"You really are just one big contradiction, aren't you?"

* * *

**A/N**

**Hi there! I'm sorry if it took a little while to post, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing. I wrote it about four times, so... yeah. Plus, it isn't one of the better pieces I've written, but I thought it fit to post so I'm sorry if it sucks /:**

**ANYWHORE I did not write the poem in this chapter. I, much like Craig, cannot for the life of me write poetry. I HAD NO PART IN WRITING THIS POEM, I WAS NOT INVOLVED IN THE MAKING OF THIS POEM, I DO NOT TAKE ANY CREDIT FOR IT WHATSOEVER. It was written and submitted anonymously, so I can't tell you who actually did write it. But I thought it was perfect and it deserved publicity, so here it is for your judging an/or criticism.**


	4. Chapter 3

Poison- Chapter 3

I wake with a start, taking a gasping breath as i frantically paw around under my pillow for my phone. Every single day, without fail, my alarm scares the crap out of me. But it's literally the only way to wake myself up. It's sad really; i have to give myself a heart attack just to force open my eyes every day. Calming down slightly, I shove my phone back under my pillow and lay down, closing my eyes. I heave a long, exasperated sigh, still exhausted. After Kenny left- he only stayed for about an hour, claiming that he had to get to work- I went back up to the attic and worked until dinner, then I had to finish the rest of my homework and an essay that I'd forgotten about. Naturally, some procrastination was thrown in there and I ended up staying up later than I wanted to.

By the time my second alarm goes off, I'm already drifting off. I repeat the process, my head falling into my pillow hard. I wake up kinda weirdly. I can never fall asleep completely after my alarm goes off, but I'm definitely not awake. I'm sort of just hovering between dreams and reality in the comfort of my bed. It's my favorite part of the day.

The blaring sound of my third alarm shatters this peacefulness.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, i crack my knuckles and yawn, my joints popping loudly with a satisfying snap. I shuffle over to my dresser and my hat over my head, grabbing the guinea pig food on my way. Smiling slightly, i crouch down so I'm eye-level with my pet, Dot, as i pour food into her bowl.

After Stripe died when i was fourteen, i got a new pig and named her Dot, just to be a little ironic. I'm glad i got her, too. She was the band aid that helped me heal from Stripe.

"Hello little girl," I coo quietly, my voice scratching its way out of my throat. She's used to my robot-like morning voice by now, so she doesn't freak out like a normal animal would. I stick my finger through the cage and scratch under her chin, earning a happy little squeak in return. If anyone saw the way I acted towards my Dot, they'd lock me away in an institution. I'm so completely different around my pets than people, and I have no clue as to why. And no, I'm not exactly a huge fan of all other animals. I don't hate them, don't get me wrong; they're cute and fun to be around, but I just like my own better.

I somehow make it downstairs for breakfast; fully clothed and everything. On the weekends this achievement doesn't go quite as far. My sister is already sitting at the table with my mom, running her mouth and shoveling oatmeal in at the same time. It's not a pretty sight to wake up to. I shoulder my backpack without a word and leave for school, grabbing a granola bar on my way out.

Thankfully, I have science first period today, not English. When Kenny left yesterday I had this weird feeling at the back of my head, and I don't like it. Maybe I can just pay him to write a poem or something. As I walk up to my locker, I vaguely wonder if Token or Tweek are any good at poetry.

My train of thought comes to a crashing stop when I see the little slip of paper on the outside of my locker. Squinting my eyes, I quickly make the connection between Kenny's messy handwriting and the print on this note.

It reads: _"If you like The Scientist, I thought you'd like this too- Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls"_

I rip it off the metal door, staring at it intently as my fingers trace over my lock absently. Should I look it up? It seems like a weird song. Isn't an iris part of your eye? Why would Kenny want me to look up a song about eyes? Seems a little creepy. Why would Kenny want me to look up any song at all?

Am I asking way too many questions over something as small as a song someone wants me to listen to?

I decide that yes, I really am asking too many useless questions and just pull up the song on YouTube. The moment it starts I recognize it, its easy guitar rhythm and soothing vocal patterns making me want to hum along. I never knew what this song was called.

Immediately, another song like this one comes to mind.

Almost as soon as I think of the song, I think of how much better it would sound if I listened to it with Kenny.

I scrunch up my nose, jamming my phone into my back pocket as I throw open my locker angrily. I hate Kenny. I fucking hate him. Now I have the amazing song he showed me stuck in my head, which will make me think of him all goddamn day.

I don't want to like Kenny. I don't want to like anyone. It would be too complicated if I liked someone. Plus, I'm sure my parents wouldn't exactly be thrilled to find out that their son is gay. Not only gay, but likes the poorest asshole in the whole town.

I sigh heavily, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead against the inside of my locker, replaying the song.

-x-x-x-

"What's up with Kenny?" Kyle peers at his friend over his thermos, an eyebrow raised.

"Dunno dude. He just sat down next to Butters and passed out." Stan says, tilting his head.

I unconsciously tune into Stan and Kyle's conversation once I hear Kenny's name. I glance up at the boy in question, his cream colored skin barely visible under the tangle of blonde hair and his bandana. Not to mention that he's pressed up against the table top, arms folded under him.

"I heard he had to pick up another job or something." Kyle says, scooping some more of his lunch out of the thermos.

Oh, ouch.

"Jesus dude. Do you know why?" Stan's expression sours into one of pity.

"Not a clue. I'll ask him." Kyle moves to poke the back of Kenny's head, his hand poised in the air.

The sound of skin on skin echoes through the cafeteria, though Kenny doesn't move an inch. It seems as though everyone in the room turns to me and all conversations stop simultaneously.

"Don't wake him up, asshole." I start, scowling down at Kyle. He shrinks away from me, face red and eyes flaming. "He looks freaking exhausted. If he's tired enough to fall asleep in a crowded cafeteria, he probably needs sleep more than you need an answer to your pointless question."

"He's got a point, Jew." Cartman says, shrugging. Kyle turns to him, shooting him a glare so icy I swear the temperature in the room plummeted. While Kyle is distracted, I refocus my attention to Kenny, who shifts slightly under my gaze. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. His shoulders rise and fall at a steady pace, his hair falling over his eyes. I almost want to cover him with a blanket or something.

I sigh heavily, finishing my lunch in silence. I really don't want to like anyone. It always ends in disaster. I don't even know if Kenny is gay- which of course would complicate things more. The last time I had a crush, I found out he was strait. This, naturally, hurt like fucking hell. Not only did I have to get over someone I really didn't want to get over, but i still have to see his stupid face every single day.

I don't need that to happen again. I guess it was kinda my fault or falling for one of my closest friends, but that's beside the point, right? Who needs details anyway?

When the lunch bell rings I'm barely on my feet before I start walking. As I turn into the hallway, I see Cartman gently waking Kenny and my heart twitches slightly at the sight.

This is going to be hard.

-x-x-x-

On my way out of school, I grind my teeth as I smooth a sticky note on Kenny's locker door, mentally beating myself up over it.

Beating myself up over him.


	5. Chapter 4

Poison- Chapter 4

Since Kenny was asleep in English class as well, i simply told him on the note I'd left on his locker to come back to my house. He hadn't responded in any way, so i just assumed that he's on his way. I'm secretly hoping he's on his way, actually. That's bad. And i need to stop that.

I shake my head and dig my nails deeper into my scalp, angry. The movie i put on to distract myself is now just useless noise, fading into the background and taking second only to my thoughts. I assumed i would be able to focus on the plot, bond with the characters, genuinely enjoy it; like i usually do. But i can't. I will probably never be able to enjoy it ever again. Simply because one of the characters reminds me vaguely of a grown-up Kenny. My life is becoming an after-school special, isn't it? I hate this. I don't want this again. I don't need this again. So i won't have it. Simple as that, right?

No. It's not that fucking simple. It's never that fucking simple. Why? Other fucking people.

If my life was like a movie, i could do whatever i wanted. And it sure as fucking hell wouldn't be a goddamn romance.

I'd have superpowers; I'd be able to fly to school instead of take the bus and read people's minds at will. I'd never fail another test in my entire life.

People would congratulate me on saving the day yet again, and I'd respond by saying something along the lines of "All in a day's work" or something cheesy like that simply because i could. I'd get medals and keys to cities and I'd never have to worry about my family because I'd have some tragic back story to get the audience to relate to me easier. But I'd be happy, because i served justice and defeated the latest super villain.

Or I'd be some sort of secret agent; I'd slide my sick shades over my eyes and walk away from awesome explosions. I'd drive a sleek black Mustang and pull guns from my back pockets, shooting with the accuracy of Black Widow. I'd be congratulated by the queen, given a Medal of Honor for saving whoever I'd saved that scene and I'd be happy like that, because I'd go home to my cute little daughter and my charming wife. She'd take my coat and kiss my cheek, lounging with me on the couch we'd picked out ourselves as our daughter played on the floor in front of us.

Or I'd be an adventurer; I'd go on daring quests and discover new discoveries left and right. I'd go to Egypt to explore ancient tombs, bringing out gold, jewels and other riches on a scale that no one has ever seen. I'd go to Peru to dig up ancient Incan prophesies and curses, like i used to do when i was younger. I'd flail a torch around in ancient cities, outrun traps and dangers.

I'd win Nobel Prizes and science awards, my hometown throwing me a huge celebration when i returned. There would be barbecues, parades, block parties- the works. The movie would end with some weird monologue and a fading scene of me surrounded by the people i loved, and everything would end perfectly.

But I can't be any of those things. I'm not in a movie. Things will not end perfectly, with handshakes and kissed cheeks and smiles. I will never get any keys to cities or Medals of Honor or Nobel Prizes. I will never defeat the latest super villain or drive a sleek black Mustang or explore Egyptian tombs. I can't. I'm just me. Movies are so easy, you know? They're set in stone, with wardrobes and camera angles and lighting and sequences of events. The movie runs its course, and then it's over forever. Even sequels. They run for two hours or so then you forget about them, fading easily into obscurity like they never happened. I'd give anything for my life to be like a movie- short, sweet, easy and to the point.

I sigh, letting my eyes fall closed as i turn up The Goo Goo Dolls on my phone.

"Craig!" My sister's shrill voice and a pounding on my bedroom door breaks through my wall of turmoil and pierces my brain. Pausing the song, I roll off my bed and land easily on my feet, striding across the room. Gripping the door knob, i take a deep breath and pull it open, looking at Ruby with a raised eyebrow. "Your butt buddy is here." She sneers, making me roll my eyes. I shove past her and jog down the stairs, opening the door with just a hint of enthusiasm.

"Hi Kenny."

"Hi Craig." He says, the small smile he's wearing crooked. He's got deep purple bags framing his eyes, their color muted from their usual lightness. He's got really nice eyes, i notice. They're not exactly one color, almost as if someone took green, gray and blue watercolors and swirled them together. I tilt my head, getting lost until he yawns and i lose sight of them. We go up to my room and repeat the process from yesterday: sit down, pull out supplies and stare at me expectantly.

"I'm assuming you did no work on anything at all, right?" Kenny asks, raising an eyebrow at me. I shake my head and shrug, pursing my lips. He smiles slightly, shaking his head a bit and flipping open the cover of his gray notebook. "Why don't we work on our own?" I nod in silent agreement. He lays back on my bed, already scribbling away in his book when he pulls out an old iPod Classic, shoving one ear bud into his ear.

"Why did you want me to listen to that song?" I ask quietly, tilting my head.

Kenny jumps and looks up, blinking a few times.

"Same reason you wanted me to listen to your's." He says, grinning slightly at me. "Nice song, by the way. I love that one."

"You've heard it?"

"Of course. I love it." He says, smile widening. "It's a bit ironic though; Ain't No Rest For The Wicked is truer than you'd think." I laugh faintly, nodding and rubbing the back of my head. Kenny stares at me, a blank and confused look in his eyes.

"What?"

"I think that's the first time I've heard you laugh." He says gently, head angled slightly. I feel my cheeks heat up and i turn away, looking down at my desk.

"Let's just get back to work," I mutter, scribbling on the page in front of me.

After a few minutes though, I hear a soft snoring coming from the bed. Confused, i turn around and see Kenny asleep.

On my bed.

While we're alone in my room.

Something in my chest twitches at the sight of him and i swallow hard, breathing shallowly. He looks so tranquil when he's asleep. His eyelashes lay on creamy skin, his cheek resting on his arm as his chest rises and falls with steady rhythm. _He looks cold_.

I sigh at myself as i cross the room to retrieve the extra blanket at the end of my bed, covering Kenny with it and tucking it in around his shoulders. He sort of just snuggles down into it, pulling it up a bit more and exhaling contentedly. He also looks extremely kiss-able when he's asleep, almost like Sleeping Beauty.

I need something to distract myself with.

_Aha._

His gray notebook lays open at the tips of his fingers, pulling me towards it with almost an undeniably strong force. With another glance at Kenny's face I'm across the room, the book suddenly in my hands. A small wave of guilt washes over me as I look at the little doodles all over the page. My heart twitches again and I watch him for a few seconds, the room silent. Then I snap out of it and sit down on the floor at the foot of the bed, opening the book.

The first one I open to is called GOODBYE MY FRIENDS. Kenny's handwriting loops lazily across the page, occasionally leading to doodles or dark blotches where he crossed out a word. I start to read it, Kenny's words immediately creating a veil around me.

_GOODBYE MY FRIENDS_

_My strength is failing, _

_My heart is stopping. _

_I never thought _

_This day would come. _

_The day that I _

_Would say my last goodbyes. _

_Goodbye my friends _

_It's time for me to go. _

_I will see you _

_On the other side. _

_As I leave this world, _

_I hope that you will remember me_

I swallow hard and glance up at Kenny, my heart beating loudly in my ears. He had warned me that he's fucked up but... this actually scares me a little. Like, I'm not in love with him or anything, but if he died I'm not sure I would be okay. I'm not good on the concept of death. Just imagine it: you die, missing out on /everything./ Every single thing after you die you will have no knowledge of. You will miss new books, new movies, new TV shows. You will miss weddings, family birthdays, parties, holidays. Not to mention we have no definitive proof of what comes next, if there is anything next. If there is, who's to say that it isn't at all what we think it is? If there's not... it's just oblivion. Eternal darkness..

I shake my head, realizing I've sunk down on my side, my eyebrows knit in this completely sinking, dragging, despair-like feeling. Rolling my shoulders, I sit up and decide to read a few more of Kenny's poems. The next one I see is titled TURNOVER, and it seems a bit better than the one before.

_TURNOVER_

_The white snow turned to black so fast  
__The freshwater turned to sludge  
__The flag lowered on the mast  
__Cars blocked the street and would not budge_

_The flowers wilted in the park  
__An infant cried near by  
__The windows of the shops were dark  
__And no one said goodbye_

_The rising sun was covered by a fog so thick and gray,  
__And at that moment I decided  
__I could no longer stay_

I pour over the book for what feels like hours, until I hear Kenny stirring behind me. He's upright before I can get the book back where it was, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. After a moment, his eyes light up in anger and he grabs the book from me, the rage clear in his snarling expression.

"What the fuck were you doing? Why the hell were you reading this?" He asks, gripping the book with white knuckles.

"I- uh- I was just-" He's fucking terrifying when he's angry. All of a sudden he's on his feet, fist poised in the air. Then my shoulder is throbbing painfully and before i can get my bearings he's at the door, all of his stuff gathered at lightning speed. Before he walks down the hall, he turns to me and points, expression twisted with bitterness.

"Don't ever touch this book without my goddamn consent." He hisses, eyes narrowed. Still stunned, i rub my shoulder absently and nod, watching his small frame fade quickly from view. I swallow hard, my arm practically limp.

I think I just lost any chances with getting anywhere close to Kenny McCormick.

* * *

**A/N**

Hullo again! I'm sorry if i take a little while between some chapters, but i get serious cases of writers block sometimes. Anyway, i did not write the poems in this chapter either.

"Goodbye My Friends" is by xXShatteredHeartXx and "Turnover" was written by a girl that goes to my school. I DID NOT WRITE EITHER OF THESE POEMS.

This is the link to the profile of the person who wrote "Goodbye My Friends"

/poems-by/xXShatteredHeartXx/

I hope you liked this chapter!


	6. Chapter 5

Poison- Chapter 5

The next morning at school Kenny ignores me completely; in his mind, i don't exist. He didn't look at me in the halls, he didn't talk to me in homeroom, and he didn't even acknowledge me when I saw him in the bathroom. All in all, my day is shaping up to be simply amazing. When i woke up i had a pounding headache, my parents announced that they would be out for the night which means i would need to feed both my sister and myself, i was nearly late for school, and now to top it off Kenny is being a major dick. I admit that i deserve some sort of cruddy payback, but paying me no attention whatsoever? Acting as though i was never born over a book? That is some serious dickery right there. Its pissing me off more than it should. Ignoring me is probably the best way to tick me off, and somehow he's got it down perfectly in a matter of days. In English, i walk over to his desk quietly and fold my arms across my chest, watching him silently.

"Kenny?" I ask, tapping his shoulder. He raises his eyes to see me, his expression flat. Everything- every pissed off sentence i was thinking about letting flow from my lips- desert me in a matter of moments and leave me scrambling for something else to say. "Do you have any more songs for me to listen to?" The look in his eyes changes slightly and he ducks down, scribbling on the bottom corner of his notebook.

"I think I've got one." He says softly, shoving it into my palm and standing up just as the bell rings. I unfold the crinkled piece of notebook paper and stare at the words.

What he wrote this time was fairly simple: The Sound of Madness by Shinedown.

Oh shit, that doesn't sound very hopeful. The second bell rings when I'm at my locker, swapping out my books for my afternoon classes. I rub my temple absently, my headache throbbing with all the motion, sounds and light in the crowded hallway. The Tylenol i took before i ran out of the house sure as hell isn't doing its job. On my way to the lunchroom, i look up Kenny's song on my phone, hoping music will block out some other noise.

Christ was i wrong.

The song starts off with a loud guitar riff, accompanied by a thumping drum beat. Then the rasping vocals start, bringing forth more bad feelings. I guess that was the point though; Kenny was pretty emphatic in displaying his disdain for me at the moment. The drum beat echoes in time with my footsteps, making me feel like an idiot, like I'm doing it on purpose.

"_Yeah, I get it, you're an outcast. Always under attack. Always coming in last, Bringing up the past. No one owes you anything. I think you need a shotgun blast, A kick in the ass, So paranoid. . . Watch your back!_" Well that fits this situation perfectly.

"_Oh my, here we go... Another loose cannon gone bi-polar. Slipped down, couldn't get much lower. Quicksand's got no sense of humor. I'm still laughing like hell. __You think that by crying to me Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe, You've been infected by a social disease. Well, then take your medicine._

_"I created the Sound of Madness. Wrote the book on pain. Somehow I'm still here,_

_To explain, That the darkest hour never comes in the night. You can sleep with a gun. When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?_" Other than the fact that Kenny showed this to me in spite, it's a pretty good song. I like it a lot; though the drum is doing a number on me.

"_I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality, If there's an afterlife, Then it'll set you free. But I'm not gonna part the seas; You're a self-fulfilling prophecy. You think that crying to me, Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe, You've been infected by a social disease. Well, then take your medicine._

_"I created the Sound of Madness. Wrote the book on pain. Somehow I'm still here, To explain, That the darkest hour never comes in the night. You can sleep with a gun. When you gonna wake up... When you gonna wake up and fight..._" I pause the song and groan quietly in my seat, rubbing my temples.

"Who shoved sand up your vagina, Tucker?" Clyde asks, nudging me with his shoulder. I jab him in the side, earning a satisfying squeak in return. Out of what could become habit, i glance at Kenny, who's seated at the opposite end of the table staring at me. His eyes display a slightly sorrowful expression, but it's gone the moment me meets my eye. I sigh heavily, my shoulders drooping.

"Nothing today," I mutter, folding my hands on the table. All of a sudden,

Tweek's fingers are on my shoulder and he's staring at me incredulously.

Thankfully, i know how to read his frightened expressions by now. "What?"

"Your hands are shaking." Token answers for him, pointing. Tweek nods rapidly, wringing his hands in his lap. I blink a few times, glancing downward to watch my hands shake ever so slightly. Not shake exactly, more like convulse violently. And I'm not the only one to notice apparently. When i raise my eyes once more everyone is staring at me, Kenny included. He tilts his head to get a better look.

"Dude? Did you take something?" Kyle asks, eyebrows furrowed. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

"Unless Tylenol counts, i think I'm good." I reply sarcastically.

"But what if someone laced all your medicine with some deadly neurotoxin? What if someone tried to kill you man! What if someone is trying to kill all of us to cover up some government conspiracy! I can't have my friends dying on me! Gah!-

I'd have no one to sit with at lunch!" Tweek starts to go off, earning another eye roll on my part. I swat at his shoulder, moving his hands away from his tangled mass of hair.

"I'm not dying, Tweek. Just relax. I woke up with a headache-"

"It's the neurotoxins! He's infected!" I sigh heavily, my chin falling onto my chest.

"Tweek, chill out dude." Stan says, chuckling a bit. Tweek bites his lip, his eyes flitting between Stan and i anxiously.

"Oh Jesus! I never noticed the similarities between you two! What if you're twins!?" He shouts, threading his hands into his hair. "What if you're aliens, man!? I-I trusted an alien with my deepest secrets!" Stan glances at me as Tweek continues to mutter to himself, an eyebrow raised.

"Now you've done it.." I mutter, flipping him off. I turn back to Tweek, reaching out. "Tweek, Tweek, listen to me. Stan and I are not not- nor will we ever be- related, much less twins. We're born on different days, and i moved here in kindergarten. I'm not infected with any neurowhatever and no one is trying to kill any of us." I say slowly, watching as he seems to unwind. He looks around sheepishly, nodding to everything i say.

"Sorry," He squeaks, chewing on his lip. I smile slightly at him and shrug.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" I ask gently, trying not to set him off again. He's got PPD, or paranoid personality disorder, which was brilliantly displayed just a few moments ago. His doctors say it's because of his coffee intake coupled with the amount of sleep he gets- or, rather, doesn't get- which may also eventually lead to schizophrenia. This would be very, very bad.

"Um..." That's usually his answer for two hours or less; which means he's had a lot of coffee this morning.

"Tweek..."

"I know," He sighs, rubbing his eyes. See? He can be somewhat normal. Sometimes. Namely when we're alone. That's why i used to like him: i saw a side of him no one else ever did. "I'm sorry."

"I've told you this like a million times," I say, resting my hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault." A wide smile blooms across his face, showing a gaggle of his mismatched teeth.

"You sound like Oprah or something, man." He says, chuckling. His laugh is always contagious, so i let go of a little snicker as well. "But seriously, your hands are shaking really badly. I can feel it." He says, his expression reverting to one of seriousness.

"I told you, i woke up with a headache."

"Do you think it's-"

"Probably not." I shrug, brushing it off. "It's just a little headache."

"I know. But it always started with your hands." Tweek says, chewing on his lip. Oh, shit, i hope he doesn't start again. "Then you would get all confused and then you'd kinda start to act like me."

"Like you?"

"Yeah. You'd talk either way too fast for anyone to understand you or you'd just mumble to yourself."

"Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Um..."

"I told you." He sighs, shaking his head. "Do you have your medicine?" I stare at Tweek's concerned look blankly, unable to connect two and two in my mind.

"My... My medicine? Why would i need my medicine? I'm fine." I ask, my own voice sounding slightly stupid to me. I squint my eyes, scratching at the back of my head.

"No you're not. We've got to get you home, or at least to the nurse's office. I drove my car in today; i can take you home, c'mon."

"No, Tweek, really. I'm perfectly okay-" A wave of nausea washes over me so quickly my head feels like its spinning on my shoulders. I swallow hard and grab

at the table, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "Oh god..."

"C-Craig?" Tweek asks, his voice getting higher ever so slightly. He's going into panic-mode again.

"I'm fine," I mumble, shaking my head. My brain feels like its sloshing around in my skull, like it's detached completely and is just freely bouncing against my bones. "I'm just gonna- gonna go to the bathroom for a second, alright? I'm f-fine." I say, standing on shaky legs as i book it to the nearest bathroom. The light starts to send spurts of pain through my eyes, my ears burning with the commotion as well. The bathroom door slams behind me as i kneel at the grimy porcelain, the tiles cold through my thin jeans. I claw at the seat, waiting.

My stomach turns and i take a deep breath before the bathroom smells like vomit, the air swirling with stench as i empty my stomach into the toilet. The main door slams shut again, someone taking long, lazy steps towards me. I reach up and weakly smack at the lever, the obnoxious flushing noise echoing around the room. I groan, wiping at the thin film of sweat that's formed over my forehead.

"Craig?" Kenny calls quietly, poking his head in. His nose is scrunched slightly under his bandana and for once I'm glad he has the damn thing. "Tweek told me i should come check on you."

"He did?" I rub at my eyes, my voice raspy. Kenny blinks a few times, nodding.

"He gave me a few other instructions, too." He says quietly, suddenly producing a wet paper towel from behind himself. Kneeling in front of me cautiously, he moves the hair out of my eyes and presses the cool paper towel to my forehead, moving it slowly over my clammy skin. My eyes fall closed and i heave a long sigh, my shoulders falling a bit as it takes a slight edge off the throbbing behind my eyes.

"Wait," I mutter, forcing my eyes open. "Why couldn't Tweek come?" Kenny looks down, pulling his hands back to his sides.

"He's having a small panic attack." He says softly, lifting his eyes to meet mine again. "Token is taking care of it. Tweek kept yelling about you, so i told him that I'd check on you. Then he started spurting off instructions about what to do, and tossed me his car keys, so i just tried to remember them as best i could and came here."

"You're only doing this because Tweek told you to," I sigh, my mangled brain giving me away. Kenny's eyes harden, his hand freezing at his side. I see his free fist tighten a bit, his Adam's apple bobbing. My vision blurs for a moment and I'm hit with another wave of nausea, whatever's left in my stomach threatening to make reappearance in a moment.

I smack Kenny's hands away and practically dive for the toilet, barely able to make sense of the confused and slightly hurt look on his face as i do so. I moan quietly, retching violently in small spurts of time and dry-heaving in the space between. Kenny presses his cool hand into the space between my shoulder blades, rubbing in small circles. This wonderful little performance lasts about ten minutes, and the whole time Kenny never leaves.

And then the pain hits.

I rub my temples, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Everything aches. It feels like someone's clamped a compressor around my brain, the pressure turned up as high as it can go. If i cough my head will pop. I slide onto the germ-infested tiled floor, unable to keep myself up any longer. Curling in on myself, I try desperately to ignore Kenny calling my name over and over. His voice hurts too much to answer it.

"Craig, _please answer me_," He says, panic leaking into his tone. I shake my head weakly, the movements sending horrible, white-hot _pain_ down my whole body. I go rigid. "I-I'm gonna move you, alright?" Kenny says shakily. Moving slowly, he grabs onto my upper arms and pulls me into a sitting position, the action sending waves upon waves of queasiness through my entire body. Then he sluggishly pulls me to my feet, allowing me to lean heavily against his side.

The next time i blink I'm standing in the student parking lot, the glaring sun rocketing through my eyes and sending splinters of needles through my brain.

They travel down my spine and i moan, feeling it move down my back. Beside me, Kenny tightens his hold on my waist and my thoughts begin to bleed together. He eases me into the passenger seat of Tweek's car, the familiar aroma of coffee and the vanilla scented car freshener calming me down a bit. I curl in on myself against the leather seat, the roar of the engine sending shock-waves through my ears.

The next time i open my eyes Kenny is practically dragging me up my front steps.

My eyes fall closed and i force my legs to move one step at a time. I'm unaware of time passing and locations switching, but I'm shockingly mindful of others:

_Like how strong Kenny is, despite how he looks on the outside._

_Or how reassuring the cold press of Kenny's fingertips is against my flaming skin._

_Or how patient he's being with me; like how he's quietly murmuring small encouragements into my ears to get me to move again._

Then I'm laying down in my bed, kicking my boots off and wrapping myself in my dark green comforter. Everything goes black as i drift off, my brain too busy trying to slowly destroy its owner from the inside out to dream about anything.

-x-x-x-x-x-

There's something wet over my eyes. It's cold and wet and my arms are too stiff to untangle themselves from the sheets to remove it. I swallow hard as a shiver runs down my spine, the sweat-dampened collar of my tee shirt only adding to the chill. Groaning quietly, i eventually manage to sit up on my elbows and remove the cloth, holding it awkwardly in my hand.

...How did i even get here?

I clearly remember the lunch table... or at least part of it. I remember puking in the bathroom, something about Kenny; but then everything is blurry, like a photograph that didn't come out quite right. I can get an extremely vague idea of what happened, but it's far from clear. I recall waking up in a blind confusion to puke into my trash can a couple times, and that i started crying at some point, would have been really funny for someone to see.

"Oh, you're awake." Kenny's voice startles me in the near pitch darkness of my bedroom, making me jump and turn too fast.

"Ah," I gasp, pressing the cloth to my forehead. The migraine has since turned into a dull headache that settled behind my eyes and throbs with the beating of my heart. I squint in the direction the voice came from, searching. "Why is it so dark? What time is it?" I ask groggily, leaning back.

"Ten something." Kenny answers with a yawn, still completely formless.

"At night?"

"Yeah."

"...why the hell are you still here?" I finally gather the energy to reach over and click on the light on my bedside table, the room suddenly bathed in an overwhelming light. I flinch away, rubbing my eyes. Kenny takes a moment to answer, chewing on his lip and pinching his palms.

"I didn't want to leave you alone." He admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was waiting for your parents or your sister to come home, but no one ever did, so i never left."

"No... My parents are at some weird hunting thing with their friends..." I mutter, the events of the day slowly reentering my mangled brain. "My sister is probably at a friend's house or something."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"What happened to you?" Kenny blurts, breaking the semi-awkward silence that's fallen not only over the room, but the house in its entirety. "You looked like you were dying."

"Felt that way too." I mutter, letting my shoulders droop. "It was a migraine."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"Sorry you had to deal with me. Usually Tweek is around to do it, or my parents." I say quietly, sparing a glance up at Kenny. The dim lighting has cast an almost angelic ring of light around his exposed blonde hair, shadowing his face in just the right way to make my heart stop beating in my chest.

"It's okay." He says quietly, shrugging. A quizzical look flashes across his eyes. Which, by the way, are _practically fucking glowing_ right now. "Is that why you like hanging out with him?"

"Not only that," I decide that I'll be a little open tonight; after all, Kenny did see me in my weakest state just hours ago. "He's not like that when we're alone. Is that why you hang out with Cartman?"

"Yeah. He's not the way he is in public, not really." Kenny says, nodding.

"It's kinda complicated." We both say, our eyes snapping up to meet the others. He shoots me a small crooked smile, making my heart drop into my stomach.

I think he pushed me over the edge.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hullo my lovelies! I'm just here to thank LadyRaven-321 because she has left some amazing comments on this story that help me to improve! So you all have to thank her by visiting her profile because she truly is amazing! u/266932/LadyRaven-321**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 6

Poison- Chapter 6

Sometimes, i can't take the weekends. I mean, i absolutely love not being in school, don't get me wrong on that part. It's just the sheer loneliness the utter silence that leaves me with a hollow feeling in my chest every time it rolls around.

Now, i know what you're all thinking; why not just text someone and say to hang out? See, i get uncomfortable with texting people first because i think that if they wanted to hang out with me they'd say something. Otherwise...I'm just stuck alone. I'm going to reveal a little secret about why i believe that. Its three words. It has an unfortunate yet hilarious acronym. Any takers? No? Good, I'm glad. You'd only know what I'm talking about if you've got the same problem. Social anxiety disorder. Cut, roll end credits, close the curtains. Game, set, match. Ah yes. SAD. Told you it was kinda funny; in a weird, twisted way at least.

The music i put on to block my own thoughts now sounds like useless noise, and i hate when my music starts to sound like that. Mostly cause all said thoughts come flooding back to me, as though i just opened the gates to a new amusement park.

I sigh, crossing the room and squatting near my speakers to pause the music. I guess i could just... goof around by myself. I've perfected the art of being alone, especially after i found my grandfather's old instruments when i was ten. He owned a music shop in California before he and my grandmother moved to South Park, so i had a wide selection to choose from. Now, seven years later, I've pretty much mastered the flute, the saxophone, the bass, acoustic and electric guitar, the drums, the violin and the piano.

See how much time i spend alone? I push myself off up, balancing on the corner of the desk. Just as i step into the hall to go get a drink, my phone sounds from my bed, the noise of a chainsaw breaking the freshly fallen silence.

Just as i decide to ignore it, the sound starts over again, causing me to roll my eyes and stalk back over to my bed. It's probably just my mom or something, reminding me to shovel the walkway again. I blink in confusion when i see an unknown number lighting up my screen.

-Unknown-

Craigggggg help me I'm boredddd

-Unknown-

Oh shit this is kenny sorry about that. didn't mean to give you a heart attack or anything dude

-Craig-

Um, its okay i guess. But how did you even get my number?

-Kenny-

Tweek gave into me in science class today ;)

-Kenny-

Very reluctantly, i might add

-Craig-

Oh god. Do i even want to know what you did to Tweek to get my number?

-Kenny-

Not particularly. Don't worry though, he's unharmed

-Kenny-

anywhore, back to meeeee

-Craig-

Anywhore? Is that even a real word?

-Kenny-

It is to me

-Craig-

...okay

-Craig-

What the hell do you want me to do about you being bored anyway?

-Kenny-

Well, since i assumed you have no social life, you'd be home on a Saturday afternoon

-Kenny-

Am i right?

-Craig-

your an asshole

-Craig-

*you're

-Kenny-

I'll take that as a yes then ;p

-Kenny-

besides, I'm already at your house

-Craig-

you're where? what?

-Kenny-

open up

-Kenny-

i brought sour gummy worms

-Kenny-

okay i stole them from cartman's room on the way over here but i still have them

Still thoroughly perplexed, i pull open my curtains and, sure enough, see a head of blonde hair at my front door. He's still tapping away on an old iPhone, a bag of sour gummy worms pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. I shake my head, barely believing that he's actually there; and just when i was starting to need another human being.

"Kenny," I breathe as i swing open the door, at the halfway point between relief and unsureness. The corners of his eye crinkle in a crooked smile and he takes a step inside, kicking off his heavy snow boots.

"Hello Craig," He drags my name out, elongating each letter. Somehow this makes the small smile on my face grow. "So lovely to see you."

"Um... So lovely for you to drop in?" He follows me to my room, sitting cross-legged on the corner of my bed and staring at me from across the room. I open my mouth to say something, _anything_, to dissolve the slowly settling awkwardness, but Kenny's face changes and he stumbles across the room.

"I never noticed this before," He says, looking back at me as he traces the engraving on my saxophone.

"I brought it up from the basement earlier." I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Can you play it?"

"No, i just keep it here to look at." I say sarcastically. Kenny rolls his eyes at me.

"Ass," He mutters under his breath, smoothing his fingers delicately over the violin sitting next to it. "I can play this." He comments absently, barely even sparing me a glance.

"You can? How did you learn?" I ask, walking towards him. He shrugs.

"Since i can't afford my own instruments or lessons, i sneak into the music room after school all the time to play. I teach myself." He explains, turning to me.

"Oh,"

"Wait! I'm so happy i have gummy worms." He says, bouncing back over to my bed. He opens the pack of candy and pulls down his bandana, popping one into his mouth. I smile slightly, walking over and sitting beside him.

"Hand it," I mutter reluctantly. Kenny smirks widely at me, tossing me the bag and laying back, his head dangling off the end.

"I'm going to tell you a secret," Kenny says as i lay back on my bed, mimicking his pose. As i set the bag between us, i raise an eyebrow and encourage him to go on. "You can't tell anyone. It's really serious."

"Okay okay, get on with it if it's so serious."

"I fucking love gummy worms."

"...that's your huge secret." I say, shooting him a sideways glare. He laughs, nodding.

"What? You think I'd actually tell you some ground-shattering secret about me?" He laughs, crooked teeth flashing. I've noticed that when he smiles, the lip ring in the right corner of his mouth tilts and glints in the light. I've also noticed that i really, really, like that lip ring. "Oh i have an idea."

"Is that a good sign or...?" Kenny laughs again, shoving my shoulder.

"I would like to play a game."

"You sound like a psychopath." I say, taking another gummy worm from the bag.

Kenny smirks, shrugging.

"I am usually regarded as so." He says, a mysterious glint in his eye.

"Anywhore-"

"I seriously don't think that's a word." I tell him, glancing over as he pops another worm between his lips, sucking off the sour crystals.

"_Anywhore_," He says, enforcing each syllable. "It's called Two Truths One Lie.

Ever played before?" When i shake my head, he continues. "You state three things about yourself- two that are true, and one that isn't- and the other person has to guess which one you're fibbing about."

"Sounds interesting." I say, tilting my head at him. "You go first?"

"Fair enough. But i don't think you're going to be able to get them."

"Oh really?"

"Really really," He says smugly, nodding. "Okay, um... i have never gotten into a bar fight, i have eaten vomit and i can't stand country music." I stare at the ceiling for a few moments, running the choices over in my head.

"Fuck, i have no idea." I can feel the smugness wafting off Kenny's expression.

"Um... you've never eaten vomit?" Kenny laughs, shaking his head wildly. "Ew, what? You've eaten vomit!?" Still laughing, Kenny sits up and nods.

"Yeah dude. I got paid twenty bucks for it, so i totally did it." I scrunch up my nose and put back the gummy worm that was halfway to my mouth, which only cracks Kenny up more.

"So what isn't true, if you ate your own puke?"

"I've never gotten into a bar fight." He says, popping a blue and pink worm into his mouth.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've never gotten that drunk in a bar." He shrugs, twirling a worm between his fingers. "I'm only fight if in wasted enough to forget how to get out of the parking lot. Your turn."

"Okay... okay I've got some." I say, crossing my legs. "I've jumped off a roof, i have set a kitchen on fire and i can turn my arm all the way around." Kenny looks at me as if I've just grown a third eye.

"Um... you can't turn your arm all the way around." He says after a few seconds of careful consideration. I shake my head, a smirk growing on my face.

"Nope."

"Wait, you can twist your arm all the way around? Show me!" He says, leaning forward. I roll my eyes a bit, twisting my arm around behind my back. "Holy shit!"

"Yeah. I broke my collarbone when i was twelve and now i can do that."

"Did that broken collarbone happen when you jumped off the roof?" Kenny asks, tilting his head at me. I nod, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Yeah... maybe."

"Do tell." Kenny says, folding his hands in his lap.

"Okay, you can't laugh." I say, biting my lip. "One year Token took Tweek, Clyde and i up to his summer house. This, naturally, has a pool. So Clyde got the bright idea to jump off the mudroom roof instead of the diving board, because it was higher off the ground and would therefore make a bigger splash. He was too much of a pussy to do it, so he dared me to. And i did. But i slipped because of the pool water and face planted on cement. Broke my nose too."

"Oh, ouch. Damn dude."

"Eh, could've been worse. Your turn, country lover." Kenny rolls his eyes at the name, pursing his lips in thought.

"I can't stand the smell of chocolate, i have wet the bed-" When i make a face, Kenny adds on something to make it better. "-while there was someone else in it-"

"Jesus Christ," I cut him off, making him laugh as he gives the final option.

"And I've been roofied."

"Fuck, dude. How the hell am i supposed to know if you've wet the bed?" Kenny's laughter intensifies, making him grip his sides and shake his head.

"Just give your best guess."

"Um... You love the smell of chocolate?" Kenny scrunches up his nose, shaking his head and popping another gummy worm into his mouth. "So you've been roofied? Good to know... Wait, you don't like the smell of chocolate?"

"Ugh, god no. Makes me puke. I can eat it just fine, there's no problem there. But god forbid i actually get a whiff of the stuff."

"And you've wet the bed while someone was in it with you?"

To be honest, it just went downhill from there. The choices ranged from completely weird or random (You can fit your whole fist in your mouth?) to gross (You drank piss?) to so completely sexual its wrong (Yeah, i have had a dream about having sex with dead people.) When it was my turn a few minutes later, i actually stunned Kenny into silence.

"Okay, i have tried to give a BJ to a friend, i have a tattoo or i absolutely rock at Just Dance." Kenny stares at me with an odd look in his eye, leaning on his fist and furrowing his eyebrows.

"I seriously doubt that you have done any of those." He says after a few minutes, shaking his head.

"What?" I ask, stunned. "C'mon, I'm not that much of a looser. Just guess, you bastard."

"Okay okay... you don't have a tattoo." The completely, utterly dumbfounded look on Kenny's face when i shake my head ripped the cackle right out of my throat. "You have a tattoo? Then what the hell was the lie?"

"I have never tried to blow one of my friends." I say simply, shrugging with an amused smile and popping a worm into my mouth.

"Wait, you have a tattoo? What the hell, where? Can i see?"

"Actually, i have two." I look down at the thick layers of bracelets covering my wrists, searching for any sign of the black ink that stains my skin there. "And, no. You can't see them." At the silence that follows my statements, i glance up and meet Kenny's heavy gaze.

"Why?" He asks quietly, calculating my every move. _He's doing that thing- that thing where he pretty much reads your mind, just by looking at you. You're transparent to him. Lie about it. Do it now or he'll figure it out._

"I just- I'm not very comfortable with- It's just that-" I stammer uselessly, melting under Kenny's prolonged stare.

"Okay." Kenny says simply, shrugging and breaking our eye contact.

"W-What?"

"Okay," He repeats lightly. "If you're not comfortable with showing me, then you don't have to. I'm not that much of an asshole, dude. I wouldn't make you do something you're not okay with doing."

After that, the game continues normally, as though that awkward little section never happened. Kenny leaves when his mom calls him, barking at him to come home. I watch him walk down the street from my bedroom window for a bit, wearing a small smile.

"Craig!"

The sound of my name makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I had no idea he was home; he's not supposed to be home this early.

"Yeah, dad?" I call back, coming to the foot of the stairs immediately, already worried.

"Come down here. Now." The tone in his voice turns my brain to liquid and shoves a nervous lump into my throat, but i go anyway. I know what the consequences would be if i didn't. I walk to the kitchen robotically, trying desperately to make it appear natural. I don't need him to gain anything else for him to use to torment me.

Let me get something strait: he doesn't physically abuse me. I know that's what you're all thinking is about to happen, but its honestly a rare occurrence that he ever lays his hands on me. But the words he uses against me sting way worse than a beating does.

"Why was that McCormick kid here for so long?" He asks, setting his glass gently on the kitchen table. He's standing near the windows with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the door.

"Um... He's my friend." I venture, shrugging to make the situation light. My dad nods and plays with the rim of his glass, as though he's thinking hard about what I've said.

"Why do i get the sense that you're lying to me? Because what you two were talking about up there didn't exactly sound like things friends would be discussing." I swallow hard, trying to force down the ever-growing knot in my throat. My dad swallows the last bit of water in the cup and walks towards me, leaning in close. "I will not have a fagot for a son." He hisses, sending chills down my spine. I nod stiffly and he passes silently, leaving me frozen in my spot.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello guys! I'm so sorry it took long to update this. I played around with ideas and wrote the chapter numerous times, so it took me a while. Plus, a serious case of writers block decided to strike me.**

**Anyway, i hope you guys like this chapter!**


	8. Chapter 7

Poison- Chapter 7

After a couple of weeks, Kenny starts to be himself around me. Since he helped me with the whole migraine incident, I've started to warm up to him as well. Actually, I've warmed up to the thought of us; like the completely corny, annoying type of couple you see in a movie. You know the kind. The hand holders, the eskimo kissers, the prolonged huggers. I actually zoned out of a whole math lesson the other day just thinking about how Kenny's piercing would feel against my lips.

"Kenny, I'm serious. I think you should get your eye checked out, it's really bad."

"I'm fine, Eric. Just forget about it."

Pause. Back it up. The serious and concerned tone in Cartman's voice snaps me out of my potential wet fantasy. What happened with Kenny? Forget about the fact that Cartman just stunned me into silence by displaying the fact that he has _actual human feelings_. I mean, i believed Kenny when he told me that he acts like something other than a psychopath, but i never thought in a million years that I'd see it with my own eyes. _In broad daylight, in public, with people around._

I'm losing my train of thought.

"Ken, you look like you've been hit by a truck." Cartman sighs, rubbing his forehead. Kenny is mostly out of my line of sight at the moment, what with my head stuck in my locker only a bit of his shoulder and the rest of his right arm seen over Cartman's massive frame. Kenny has his hood pulled up and tightened around his face, using his bandana to conceal whatever the hood couldn't reach despite the fact that it's as hot as the seventh layer of hell in here right now.

"Bullshit," Kenny barks suddenly, slamming a fist into the wall of lockers.

Cartman jumps, blinking a few times in surprise. The motion in the hall slows for just a moment, enough to make the air heavy with a tense awkwardness. "I don't look that bad." Kenny mutters, shoulder drooping.

"Almost," Cartman says, tilting his head. "Did you even clean it up the right way?" Kenny's shoulder falls further and Cartman sighs again, reaching out.

"Here, let me-"

"Don't touch me," Kenny hisses, smacking Cartman's hand out of the way. "I don't need you to take care of me anymore, okay? I'll do it myself." He turns on his heel abruptly, leaving both Cartman and i with slack jaws as we watch him retreat into the bathroom.

I take a few steps forward, intending to push through the bathroom door behind him, but I'm stopped hastily by a firm hand on my shoulder. As a semi-automatic response, my fists tighten at my sides and my face screws itself into a cringe, waiting.

"I wouldn't, if i were you." Cartman's low voice comes from behind me and i loosen up immediately, turning to face him with an eyebrow raised. "It's seriously not a good idea."

"Why? What happened?" I ask, crossing my arms. Cartman narrows his eyes, his jaw tightening.

"It's not my place to tell you." He forces each word past his lips, as though it pains him to talk to me. "But if you like your teeth where they are, I'd suggest that you do not follow him into that bathroom." He shoots me one last glare before elbowing me on his way by, making me roll my eyes and promptly shove his warning to the back of my mind. I push past the door and spot Kenny at one of the sinks, gripping the sides like he's holding on for dear life.

"Kenny?" I ask softly, not wanting to startle him. Of course, i succeed in doing just that. He spins around so fast that he slips on a wet spot, slipping and whacking his head on the corner of an adjacent sink.

"What the fuck, dude?" He shouts, pressing the heel of his hand to his hairline. As he was scrambling and clutching for air on his way down, his hood and bandana fell, revealing what he was hiding. And now i kinda see why he insisted on taking irrational measures to keep it hidden.

His entire left eye is red, not to mention framed with a deep purple bruise that disappears under his hair and goes over his cheekbone. There are other smaller bruises on his chin and near his right ear. He's also got cuts on his upper lip and the bridge of his nose, both of which still look pretty fresh.

But the thing that really makes the breath halt in my throat is the red marks on his neck, taking the perfect shape of long thick fingers.

"Here," I mumble, unable to take my eyes off the marks. I wet a paper towel and hand it to him, crouching down as he presses it to his forehead. "I'm sorry."

"'S okay, i guess." He responds, sighing. "What the hell do you want, anyway?"

"I just... I wanted to check on you." I say quietly, looking down. "I heard you and Cartman, and it didn't sound too good."

"Oh, you heard that..."

"The whole school heard it, Ken. You weren't exactly being quiet." I say, letting go of a nervous laugh. The tiniest of smiles tugs at one corner of

Kenny's lips, making the ring slant a bit.

"Yeah, i guess not." He says, moving the paper towel in small circles. The slightly amused look on his face falls, transforming into a grimace. "I'm assuming you want to know what happened?"

"Well... yeah. I wouldn't be balancing on the balls of my feet on a nasty-ass bathroom floor while my back pretty much kills me if i didn't." I say, shrugging. Kenny's contorted expression deepens. "But I'm not going to force you to say anything." Kenny smiles slightly, nodding and closing his eyes. He pushes himself off the floor and tosses the paper towel in the garbage can, fixing his hood and bandana.

"We should get to class," He mutters as he passes me, the bell ringing loudly in our ears.

The next time i come back to my locker to pack up for dismissal, i find a note on my locker door. "I'm Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance" I blink a few times, looking across the hall at Kenny. He gives me a small smile, shrugging slightly before turning on his heel and walking down the hall.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_-Craig-_

_Kenny?_

_-Kenny-_

_Yeah?_

_-Craig-_

_come over._

I don't get a response for a long time. I spend the time that I'm waiting staring at my phone, practically willing Kenny's name to light up my screen. When it finally does, i scramble to unlock the damn thing and nearly block myself out.

_-Kenny-_

_okay_

Within a couple of minutes, Kenny is at my door, his eyes glues to the gray concrete patio. I pull him gently up to my room, shutting my door behind me.

Kenny makes himself comfortable on his favorite part of my leaning casually on the headboard behind him. A tense silence falls between us, and Kenny refuses to meet my eye.

"Why did you want me to come over?" He looks at me strangely, his head tilted slightly and his eyebrows furrowed. I noticed that he never took off his bandana or jacket, like he usually does when he comes into my room. I throw the look back at him, sighing and shrugging.

"I didn't think you'd want to be alone." I say quietly, running a hand through his hair. "And you're such a stubborn asshole that i know you wouldn't ask anyone to sit with you." Kenny smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does so.

"Thanks, Craig." He says, pulling his hood and bandana down. He pauses, his whole body stalling as if he's debating something. After some careful deliberation, he bites his lip and leans over to me, tugging me closer to him and laying his head on my shoulder.

"Sure," I say lightly, trying to disguise the fact that there's a growing blush on my face. "Is there anything i could do for you?" He sighs, shrugging.

"Not really. You could sit still and be an amazing pillow."

"I'm already doing that," I chuckle, hesitantly wrapping my arm around his waist to make him more comfortable.

"Can you sing for me?" I blink a few times, surprised.

Okay, here's my dilemma: I'd love to sing for Kenny, to make him feel better.

But i can't sing for my life. I'm not trying to be modest, or self-conscious, or any of that complete bullshit. I cannot sing. The unfortunate thing is that i love to sing, i do it all the time. My family practically hates me.

"Um..."

"You can't sing, can you?" This is another thing that i like about Kenny: he's learning how to read my mind.

"No. No, not in the least." I say, chuckling a bit. "But i know that you can." I look down at him, meeting his blue-green-gray gaze. He crinkles his nose, squinting at me.

"Not really."

"Yes. I remember when you went to that singing school overseas when we were nine."

"In Romania?"

"You went."

"Ugh, fine fine. Yes i can sing." Kenny says, exasperated. "I don't do it anymore though."

"I used to think you were great."

"I was an opera singer, I'd be much happier if you told me i was a dweeb." Kenny smiles slightly, looking away.

"Well, you are a dweeb. Just not for your voice." I say, smirking slightly.

Kenny scoffs and punches my shoulder lightly. He heaves a long, tired sigh and closes his eyes, fitting his head back onto my shoulder. I kinda hope he just leaves it there, because it's really comfortable and his hair smells kinda nice.

"You're an ass." He says, laughing.


	9. Chapter 8

Poison- Chapter 8

"Craig! Ruby! Dinner!" I rub my eyes and heave myself out of my chair, pushing back my homework as i decide to just bail on the whole ordeal. Tonight's flavor of hell is algebra.

I trudge down the stairs and automatically wander over to the counter to see if my mom needs help with anything. Wordless, she places a bowl of mashed potatoes into my hands and i place them down in the center of the table, repeating the process with the peas and chicken as well. As the rest of my family gathers around the table, Kenny flickers briefly across my thoughts and i smile slightly, thinking about the party at Wendy's he convinced me to go to later tonight. Something about wanting to celebrate the end of our junior year

And no, he never did tell me what happened to him, since you're all dying to know.

"What are you smiling about, dweeb?" Ruby sneers, shoveling some peas into one part of her plate. The smile disappears.

"It's definitely not you. That horrible stench you're giving off is making me nauseous."

"Yeah, i did accidentally throw this shirt in with your wash."

"No, i think it's your breath today. When was the last time you brushed your teeth, hm? When Bush was still president?"

"No, i remember it being the last time you got a date."

"At least I've gotten one before."

"Whatever, faggot." She grumbles as she flips me off, leaning back in her chair. "At least i can get married in my home town." I inhale sharply but subtly, a pang of nervousness shooting through my mind as a hideous stab of something related to pure pain stabs through my gut. Not only did she call me a fag, but she used a fact that I'll probably never be able to change. Sometimes when i screw her the right way she can hurt.

"Ruby," Mom snaps as i open my mouth to give my retort. "That's enough."

"What have i told you about using that word?" Dad asks slowly, making my bite the inside of my lip and stare down at my plate. Ruby visibly deflates, too.

"Sorry, Craig." She says softly, watching me intently as i push around my food and shrug. Then everything returns to normalcy, as though nothing had ever really happened. See, this is why I'd like to go to a collage across the country. I've always wanted to go to NYU, but i have no idea what i want to be yet.

"Um, I'm going to a party tonight." I say, looking up at my mom. She nods, smiling slightly.

"When do you think you'll be home?" She asks lightly, scooping some mashed potatoes onto her spoon.

"Not too late," I shrug, folding my left hand in my lap. My dad narrows his eyes slightly.

"Who's going?" He asks, tilting his head at me. A devilish smile spreads across Ruby's face.

"I bet his boyfriend is going to be there."

"Shut up, asshole!" I yell, my face hot.

"Craig! Don't talk to your sister that way!" Dad booms, stunning me into an agitated silence.

When i finish pushing my food around to avoid eating it, i excuse myself and hide away in my room until the party at seven.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

At six thirty i start to have doubts.

At six thirty one i imagine the way Kenny's eyes will light up when i see him, and the doubts stop bugging me for a bit.

At six forty, as I'm slipping into a clean pair of jeans, a cold hard dread tangles itself in the center of my gut at the thought of how many people will be there. All of them packed into one space... with alcohol and a high probability of drugs... I visibly shudder at the thought.

At six forty two, i remind myself that Kenny can get really touchy when he's drunk. Not to mention he loves to dance.

At six fifty, I'm pacing around my room. I can see a rut beginning to form, actually. That knot in my gut refuses to go away, instead spreading through my veins and nerves, bringing with it a dragging feeling of dread.

At six fifty five, Kenny shows up at my door and i decide that i don't really have to imagine him anymore, because the real thing is right in front of me.

"Ready to go dude?" Kenny asks, beaming excitedly. I force a relatively neutral expression and nod curtly, shutting the door behind me. He leads me down the street, ready to burst from anticipation. I can already hear the music from down the road, the knot in my gut spreading to the tips of my fingers. Wendy's parties are legendary. Her parents always let her have an end of year one, and leave for the weekend to let her have it. They seem to have an immense amount of well-placed trust in their daughter, something i have always been slightly envious about.

"Jeez man, it's just a party." I comment, smirking slightly to try and diffuse my nervousness. Kenny turns to me, eyes wide.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He spits, his eyebrows shooting up. I stare at him with my forehead crinkled, confused. "I'm not only going because it's a party! I mean, don't get me wrong. I love to party."

"Then... why are you going, exactly?" I question, blinking at him.

"The little coconut sorbets Wendy always puts out." He says, shrugging. "They're the best! I can never find them for a good price. Plus, they're amazing for frozen piñi coladas."

"...coconut sorbets."

"Yeah."

"You're forcibly dragging me to a party filled with people i hate against my will for coconut sorbets."

"Yes." An impish grin spread across Kenny's face, his hands splaying out in front of him dramatically. I sigh and look down with a wistful little smile, shaking my head as we approach the walkway to Wendy's house. "And, maybe i thought it wouldn't really be very fun without you there with me." He adds softly. My head snaps up, a light blush spreading over my cheeks. Before i can even get a questioning word out, Kenny adjusts his bandana and swings open the door, taking a step into the complete madness.

I scrunch my nose as an overwhelming scent of alcohol hits my senses, making me sick to my stomach. I was never much of a drinker anyway; last time i got drunk i ended up behind the local abortion clinic with Kyle Broflovski in my lap. Lord fucking knows what we were doing there, or why the hell Kyle was cuddling my legs like they were a pair of boobs.

No wonder he doesn't talk to me.

I move silently through the party, the intense bass thumping so intensely that the floor and walls start to bounce around me. I can sense the headache I'll have later. Since i pretty much lost Kenny the moment the door opened, i decide to search for someone else i can deal with: Clyde. Much unlike me, Clyde loves the atmosphere of parties. He says the music and the people make him feel like he's a part of something. I can relate to that on some level, so i used to brave all of the birthday bashes, holiday celebrations and raving New Year's riots that are usually held at Token's house. The last party i went to is where the Kyle thing happened.

When i finally find Clyde, he's sitting at the dining room table surrounded by people. The drink in his hand sloshes out of the red solo cup that holds it, splattering onto Red's dark blue jeans.

"Oh," He slurs, his head rolling on his shoulders as a dopey smile spreads across his face. "Let me get that for you.." He leans down, his head disappearing under the table. Okay, i don't think he needs any more company.

Especially by the way that Red's eyes just lit up.

Freaked out, i turn on my heel before anyone can see me and bolt into the kitchen, where i find Wendy and Token conversing casually at the nook.

"Oh, hi Craig." Wendy says, a genuine smile spreading across her face. I offer a small twitch of the lips, waving awkwardly. Token eyes me wearily.

"What are you doing here, dude?" He asks, taking a sip of his water.

"Kenny convinced me to come." I shrug, being polite around Wendy. She put a lot of work into this, and she's a good person. I can't be an ass to her all the time, especially when her and i are on good terms compared to the rest of the guys. "Why? Am i not allowed to enjoy myself once in a while?" Token holds up his hands, nodding his head.

"Whatever floats your boat, man." He mumbles, staring into the cup. I shove my hands into my pockets, staring at my shoes.

"Um," I start awkwardly, swallowing hard. "It's a little... a little stuffy in here. Can i go outside?" I ask Wendy, trying to muster up all of the pleasantness i can. Wendy is sweet when she wants to be, but she always stands up for herself. And she can be some bitch when she needs to be. Typically around Cartman.

Plus, to be honest, she scares me just a little. I just don't want to get on her bad side.

"Well," She starts, her eyes moving over me easily.

"I suppose you're sober enough to stop anyone else who might be out there from killing themselves, so go ahead." I give her another sort-of smile and push open the sliding glass door. The smell of alcohol and weed isn't as strong out here, the clean(ish) mountain air clearing my both lungs and my head.

"C-Craig?" I jump out of my skin and spin around, coming face to face with a very drunk Tweek. I blink in surprise, staring. "What the hell are y-you doooing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." I say slowly, trying to ignore the heavy scent of booze and something fruity that's wafting off of him in waves every time he moves. Which is a lot. He tends to sway when he's shit-faced. "Why are you here?"

"Bebe got me to come," He says, lighting up at the sound of his girlfriend's name. "She said she'd giiive me a BJ if i did." He hiccups at the end of his sentence, smiling widely.

"Okay," I say, plucking the wine cooler out of his hand and setting it on a nearby table. "I think you've had enough." He paws at the air pathetically, pouting like a young child.

"Buuuut Craaaaaig," He whines, crossing his arms.

"You'll die of alcohol poisoning, dude. I don't want you to have any more." I lower him gently into a deck chair, holding his arm as he lies down on his side, his already drifting closed. I sigh quietly, watching him for a moment before heading back inside to try to find Kenny.

After what feels like ages, i find him in the living room, grinding up against anyone who dares to get close to him. When he sees me his eyes light up and he grabs me by the arm, pulling me into the pack. I hold my breath and shake him loose, the stench of weed thick on his breath. He laughs hysterically, as if me being disgusted was the funniest thing on the planet. But i guess it is when you're high.

"Dude! C'mon, this party is amazing!" Kenny shouts at me, pulling me back to the mob.

"I don't dance!" I shout at him, shaking my head and trying to break away. He snickers at me, rolling his eyes.

"Don't or can't?"

"Yes!" My cheeks turn slightly red. "Just let me go!"

"But you look so hot in this lighting," He mumbles, only a few syllables reaching my ears. I blink a few times, my cheeks burning as i try to remember that it's just the weed talking.

When i finally get out of the circle, i decide to go check on Tweek to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or something cliché like that.

"Craig?" He mutters, rolling over and shielding his eyes.

"Hey," I say softly, sitting on the edge of the chair. "How're you doing so far?

Did it hit you yet?"

"Yeah. I puked twice then Bebe brought me some water." He says quietly, rubbing his eyes. "She just left to get me more." I feel a small pang of jealousy go through my chest, my jaw hardening slightly.

"She's the best," I say softly, smiling a bit. A wide grin spreads over Tweek's face and he nods, his eyes far away.

"Yeah, she is." He says quietly, watching as Bebe returns with his glass of water. I leave them alone when she rubs his shoulder tenderly, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

In one weird part of my mind, i desperately want what Tweek has and I'm wildly jealous of him for it. A beautiful girlfriend who feels the same way.

But then my rational mind says that i can't change who i am and i just need to suck it up. I need to stop wishing for things i know i can't have. For things i can't even really want. I don't want a girlfriend, I want the feelings that come with having one.

I seriously debate leaving when my eyes fall on a gate; or, in my mind, a clean getaway. My mind drifts back to what Kenny had said on the doorstep, and I'm suddenly not entirely sure if i want to go home. It's not like i have anything to do. Even if it's a little cold, it is pretty nice out here. There hasn't been anyone outside since the sun went down, and since we're pretty high in the mountains i can see the stars perfectly.

I smile slightly and walk out on the lawn, sitting cross-legged and tipping my head to the sky. Glancing behind me, i hear the sliding door open and watch Kyle walk down the lawn.

"Um... can i help you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as he sits right next to me.

"Look, could you like, not be a complete asshole for just two minutes please?" He snaps, narrowing his eyes at me as he polishes off whatever was in the cup he's holding. He sets it down next to him and heaves a long sigh, laying down and folding his arms behind his head.

"So, um... what's wrong?" I ask awkwardly, looking down at my hands. Kyle's eyes burn into my side and i unconsciously shrink away from him.

"You're actually listening to me?" He says, dumbfounded. I roll my eyes.

"I have the ability to do so, yeah." I say flatly. Kyle shoves my arm, chuckling quietly.

"Nothing you want to hear about, i suppose." He sighs quietly, shrugging.

"You look like you need a drink, dude." I comment, tilting my head towards his empty cup. Kyle shrugs again, toying with the cup in his fingers.

"I've already had my limit for the night," He says softly, eyes on the stars.

"If i go home smelling like booze my mom will bite my head off."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He sighs, leaning up on his elbows. "Do you know how to find constellations?" I blink a few times at him, confused.

"Um..." I start weakly, not knowing what so say. Just as i start to suspect his drunkenness, Kyle turns and stares at me with a completely sober expression and i suddenly know exactly what he's trying to do.

He's trying to distract himself.

"Over there," I start, pointing into the air and directing his attention upwards. "You can see Orion." Kyle squints in the direction of my hand and tilts his head.

"Oh. Oh, i see it now."

"Yeah. And that little yellow-ish dot is Venus." I move my hand slightly to the left, watching Kyle follow it as though it was the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "And a little down and to the right is Jupiter."

"How did you learn to do that?" Kyle asks, still staring into the night sky.

"They just look like dots to me."

"I used to love astronomy," I say, glancing over at him. He purses his lips and nods, as though he was weighing something in his mind.

"If I told you something really personal, would you tell anyone?" He suddenly blurts, looking away from me. I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

"What's bothering you?"

"Remember Clyde's birthday a couple months ago? When we both ended up at the clinic?" Kyle asks, a desperate tone in his voice. I nod, tilting my head at him as a sign to continue. "I've been thinking about that a lot." He pauses, swallowing hard and looking at his hands.

"Okay." I start quietly, scooting slightly closer to him. "Why do you think you've been going back to it?"

"I think I'm gay." He whispers, almost as to prove it to himself. "And I think it's your fault."


	10. Chapter 9

Poison- Chapter 9

Why the hell is my room so bright? I don't remember ever opening the shades. It's so fucking cold in here. I yawn and sit up on my elbows, trying to rub the bleariness from my eyes. And when the hell did i paint my room pink?

Now suddenly awake, I sit strait up, realizing the fact that I'm on the floor. And I'm also not in my own house. Not to mention the fact that i have a pounding headache and i feel like I'm going to puke up a lung.

"Oh Jesus..." I mutter, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes. Another set of lungs snoring quietly from the bed bring me further into reality, making me paranoid and jumpy. I peer cautiously over the fluffy comforter, seeing a head of puffy red hair and a soft looking flannel shirt to match. "Oh fuck..." I curse, a feeling of panic rolling around in my gut with whatever the hell i ingested last night. My sounds of turmoil seem to rouse Kyle from his sleep, and he rolls over with this blissfully satisfied look on his face. Until he opens his eyes anyway; then reality crashes into him like a freight train and he shoots straight up.

"Where the hell am i? Why are you on the floor? What time is it? What's going on? What happened?" He shoots off questions so fast my head spins.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to stop you right there." I grumble, holding up a hand to stop him. He scowls at me, folding his arms across his chest as i rub my temple. Small flashes of memories flit across my vision, but it's all pretty blurry. "Are you as hung over as i am? Because it's obstructing my rational thought at the moment."

"Not too bad. I can form full thoughts, obviously." Kyle says, his voice significantly lower than it was a moment ago. "Sorry, by the way."

"'S fine, i guess." I mutter, my shoulders drooping as a wave of nausea washes over me. "I think we're still at Wendy's. Unless your room is pink and you've got posters of Lady Gaga and Katy Perry hanging up." Kyle chuckles, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"No. Not as of late." He mumbles, flopping back onto the bed. "I hate that moment of confusion when i first wake up."

"I'm still stuck in that moment. Do you remember what happened?"

"Um... I don't think you're going to like it." Those words make me both more nervous and nauseous then i was before.

"Oh Jesus Christ." I paw around for the garbage can next to the bed and hold it to my face, purging everything I'd eaten or drank in the last twenty four hours into the pale pink plastic. I feel a hand on the back of my neck, and Kyle's voice somewhere thrown in there.

"No," I mutter, shrugging him away. "Please don't." Kyle sighs but removes his hand, looking away as i wipe my mouth and straighten up.

"How much do you remember?" He asks softly, scooting over on the bed to make room for me. I notice it's only a twin.

"Um... I vaguely remember the conversation we had in the backyard last night, and how i got up for a drink because you dropped a pretty heavy bomb. But it kinda goes blurry there, you know? Almost like I'm watching a movie montage."

"Okay, I'm scared to ask, but what do you remember out of the montage?" Memories of last night blur past my mind's eye, just weird clips of short flashbacks that sort of fit together. Like the smell of the alcohol i downed after i ran inside, the feel of it burning down my throat. Then it sort of just melds together, like someone turned on the heat and left my brain out to sit. I remember the pulse of the music around me, then Kyle got there somehow, telling me how weird i was when i was drunk. Then i remember kissing him, slowly and sweetly, and dragging him up a random flight of stairs. I remember the feeling of skin on skin and kisses and how good Kyle's hair smelled. I remember how he pulled my hair so often because i moaned every time he did that and i remember how he writhed beneath me when i pressed my thumbs into his hips. I remember how he found the right spot on my neck and kept kissing it, biting it, rolling it between his lips-

"Fuck," I curse, pulling the comforter over my legs. Thinking about this isn't going to do much for me, especially below the waist. Thank god Kyle has a good sense of humor. My shoulders fall when i notice a purplish bruise at the base of my neck and i heave a long sigh, glancing up at him with a desperate look in my eyes. "Was i top or bottom?" Kyle looks at me for a second and bursts into hysterical laughter, holding his sides. He winces after a moment and shakes his head.

"No worries, you were top. Your bravado was never harmed." He says, massaging his temples. "But now i get what you were talking about with the whole noise thing."

"Brutal, right?"

"Brutal." Kyle chuckles softly, standing up and stretching. "So is the smell of that shit you just tossed." He gestures to the can and i wrinkle my nose, nodding silently.

"Wait," I say as he turns to walk out. "What does this make us? What does this change?" Kyle blinks a few times, chewing on his lip in thought.

"Um... Nothing, if you don't want it to be anything." Kyle says, shrugging once and sitting on the foot of the bed. He looks at his lap, wringing his fingers. "But it could go the other way too." I offer him a soft smile, scratching the back of my neck.

"Honestly, i can't think right now." I say, sighing. "But i will get back to you. I promise."

"Thanks," He says quietly. Before i can really know what's happening, he presses a brief goodbye kiss on my lips, smiling slightly as he quickly walks out of the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When i get home i make it upstairs without much attention from either of my parents or my sister, thank god. After puking once more and a quick shower, i take some aspirin and head downstairs, practically starving. When i get to the kitchen, i see my dad sitting at the nook with his glasses, tapping away at the laptop.

"Craig," He says, making me jump in the middle of pouring a mug of coffee for myself. "Come here." My jaw tightens but i force my legs to move, stopping just in front of him. "Why weren't you home last night?"

"I... uh-" Too bad my brain is too muddled for me to give a valid and plausible answer.

"Answer me." He says, without looking up from the screen. "Do i have to get your mother?" I chew on my lip. "Were you with some girl?" My breath stalls in my lungs, my throat tightening.

"Um..." My dad's face gradually forms a smile and he turns to me.

"So all these years you were holding out on me, huh? Not talking about any of the girls in your class, never asking me for advice; but I knew you had it in you! Did you at least use protection?" I blink in surprise.

"Y-Yeah, of course I did." I mutter, trying to shed the confused and slightly hurt look on my face.

"Well, when can we meet her?"

"I... I'm not sure. She's..." I rub the back of my neck, looking at the floor. "...she's not really comfortable with telling people yet."

"Oh, a shy one. It's okay. We'll see her when she's comfortable with it." He winks at me before turning back to his computer, leaving me with a sick feeling in my stomach. I ditch the coffee altogether and retreat into my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it with wide eyes.

What the hell did i just get myself into? Like, i knew i was stupid but this... this is a whole new level of brainlessness. I slowly make my way to my bed, swallowing hard and diving under the covers. I don't want to deal with this. I don't need to deal with this. I hate this with a burning passion. But i have to deal with this. I need to deal with this, or it's going to get worse. I did this to myself, i should be able to get myself out of it. And fuck; what am i supposed to tell Kyle? That I'm totally dropping him on his ass and diving for Kenny, who might not even be gay? Who does that? And i am _not_ just leaving this where it is. I'm not fucking Bella Swan who can just go "Whoops i like two guys i guess time will solve this." Time will not fucking solve this. I can't let the two guys just battle it out or try to win me over or something annoying like that. I have to do this. It's all on me.

I don't realize I'm hyperventilating until my ears start to ring.

I cover my chest with my palm and take a few deep breaths, calming myself down slowly. Now i know what Tweek means when he shouts about how there's always too much pressure. I just need to think about this rationally, not let it get to my head. Just make a mental list. Talk to Kyle about not wanting to do anything just yet; he did tell you that he would be perfectly okay going either way. Talk to Kenny; just ask him a few simple questions. It's that easy. Talk to mom or dad; preferably mom, when dad isn't home. She was always much more tolerable about things like this. Plus, she would be less likely to kick me out on the street or send me to live with my cousins or something.

Just as i get my thoughts in order, i get a few texts from Kenny. For a moment, my face lights up and i open the messages quickly, reading them as quickly as i can. My face falls as i go down the line.

-Kenny-

Why did you screw around with Kyle last night?

-Kenny-

I didn't know you were a person who would sleep around like that

-Kenny-

I'm just surprised at you, that's all

-Kenny-

Maybe I'm overreacting, sorry

-Kenny-

Just ignore me

I drop the phone on my mattress and rub my eyes, dragging my hand down my face. I stretch my arms and send Kenny a response, fixing my hat before walking downstairs.

-Craig-

I'll be over in five


	11. Chapter 10

Poison- Chapter 10

Daddy is doing that _thing_ again. That _thing_ where he can't really walk the right way, and his breath smells funny, and his face is all red. He got home late from work today and he's doing it again. He's going to give mommy ugly bruises again. He's going to have to sleep in that dirty place with the concrete walls and metal bars again. _Again again again._ Kenny starts to figure out a pattern to all this, even though he's still just a little kid.

This is usually the part when Kevin takes him into another room, distracting him with some small toy or a picture book or something. But Kevin isn't home tonight; he's at a friend's house. So Kenny can watch it all as its happening, not just the aftermath. Mommy wakes up and yells at daddy, saying nasty words to him. Then daddy says the nasty words back, flailing his arms around. Kenny covers his eyes with his hands, wishing he was in his room with Kevin.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Karen asks quietly from the doorway to her room, rubbing her eyes and holding her blanket to her chest. Mommy yells at Karen, telling her to go back to bed. Then daddy yells at mommy, pointing to Karen. Kenny stands up as quietly as he can, waving at Karen from across the room. When Kenny tries to get to Karen, one of daddy's hands comes from out of nowhere and knocks him down, leaving him stunned on the floor. Then mommy yells at daddy, and he does the same thing to her. Then he storms out of the house and flails his arms around, saying horrible things about all of them. Karen and mommy are crying again.

Kenny's cheek hurts again. _Again again again_.

Mom and dad are fighting again. This time, they're throwing things and screaming. Now they're both doing that _thing_. That _thing_ where they can't really walk the right way, and their breath smells funny, and their faces are all red, even though it's freezing in the house because none of the bills were paid. Now Kevin doesn't pull Kenny away by the arm, or give him a book and tell him to wait here. He joins in. _It's going to happen to him, too._ Kenny sighs heavily, sitting on the couch as everything folds out behind him. He's feeling that feeling again. That horrible, pitted, empty, sad feeling again. The one that won't go away no matter how many Playboys he looks at, no matter how many games of basketball he plays with his friends, no matter how many poems he writes in his special book. Nothing makes it go away. He just wishes it would go away long enough for him to get some sleep. He's been having those dreams again. Again again again.

He tries to ignore his family by watching TV. But something is wrong tonight. As he's flipping through the channels, he sees his own house, and the meth lab out back. He hears sirens and people burst through the front door, screaming about getting on the ground. He's herded into a police cruiser holding onto Karen's hand. He hopes he doesn't have to spend the night alone again. The house gets creepy in the dark, especially without his loud parents to cover up the silence. He's in a different car then his parents again. His friends are watching from the street again. He hopes he doesn't get made fun of for this again. _Again again again._ The word drives him mad.

He's going to a party. He decides he wants to get himself out of the house, maybe make that feeling go away for a little bit. He decides to bring someone who makes the feeling hurt less and less each time he sees him. When they're together, he forgets for a while. Lots of people are doing that _thing_. That _thing_ where they can't really walk the right way, and their breath smells funny, and their faces get all red. He doesn't like it when everyone gets like this. It's dangerous.

He sees Craig acting like that. He realizes that the cycle affects everyone, not just his family. That feeling is going to come back. But every time it comes back, it comes back ten times worse than it was before. He sees Craig acting like that with Kyle. They're dancing together, kissing each other, dragging each other upstairs. Kenny feels sick. It's happening again. It's coming back again.

_Again again again._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A knock at his window startles him, making him whirl around on his bed and stare intently at the grimy glass. What he sees surprises him even more.

"Craig?" He mumbles, striding over to the window and forcing it open. "What the fuck?"

"What do you mean? I told you i was coming. Move over." Craig mutters, pulling himself through the window. "Why did you freak out on me this morning?" Kenny shrugs, moving over to his bed and closing his notebook. He doesn't want Craig to see what he's been writing about lately, especially not last night.

"I kinda got panicked when i couldn't find you." He says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know. I said sorry."

"But you don't have to be sorry, if you'd just tell me what got you so worried."

"I don't need to tell you. There's nothing to tell anyway." Kenny moves the books out of the way and pats his mattress, making room for Craig to sit down. He makes a quick survey of his almost-neat room, double checking that nothing bad is lying around. When Craig doesn't respond for a few moments, Kenny looks over at him expectantly.

"You know you can't lie to me, Kenny." He says softly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall. Kenny sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "And i hate that you can't tell me what's wrong. At least let me explain myself, before you work yourself into hysterics."

"You can't make fun of me, if i do tell you." He says quietly, looking down at his lap.

"I won't. Am i known for making fun of people?" Kenny shoots him a look. "Okay, fine, asshole. Have i ever made fun of you?"

"Jesus Christ, this must bug you a lot." Kenny mutters, picking at his fingernails. Craig covers Kenny's calloused hand with his own, stopping him.

"Please. Just spill it, dude." He pleads quietly, rubbing Kenny's hand with his thumb for a moment before retracting his hand. "Nothing will change between us." Kenny's chest clenches when he says that.

"Okay." He says softly, sighing. He tries to form the statement in a way that doesn't sound overly creepy. He figures the best way to go is just to lie. "I was just a little surprised that you... slept with Kyle. Honestly, i didn't even know you were interested in guys." Craig flushes, chewing on the inside of his lip.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly, shoulders drooping. "It must be awkward for you to think of your friend like that..."

"You?" Kenny mutters, raising an eyebrow. He scoffs, shaking his head. "No. Not so much." Craig's blush grows and his face twists into a scowl.

"I meant Kyle, asswad." He spits, rolling his eyes. "But thanks for your input."

"Kyle's more like a mom so... yeah, it's a little awkward." Kenny confesses, sighing. _But that's not the main thing that's bothering me._

"Why are you so damn invested in this?" Craig asks, his eyebrows knitting in anger. "You should be high fiving me or something dude. That's what all the normal friends would do!"

"In case you hadn't fucking noticed, I'm not as normal as I'd like to be!" Kenny shouts pointing a finger in Craig's face. He sweeps his arm out to the room, directing Craig's menacing gaze elsewhere. The amount of hate in his gaze is actually starting to physically hurt Kenny. "I'm not normal! I never was! I never will be! I thought someone finally fucking understood that!"

Craig's hateful expression falters slightly and he draws in a deep breath through his nose, letting his lungs fill with air. "I do get that," He says softly, shoulders dropping. "I just... Sorry."

"It's okay." Kenny says gently.

"But, can i trust you with something kinda... bad?" When Kenny nods silently, Craig chews on his lip and wrings his hands in his lap. "I never wanted to sleep with Kyle. I don't even remember most of it, to be perfectly honest. And I don't want to. It was a mistake." He admits softly. The worst part of this is that Kenny is extremely relieved. It feels like a cinderblock was lifted off his chest, like he could breathe easier now that Craig admitted that he didn't have feelings for Kyle. Kenny feels Craig's eyes on him and he tenses up, anticipating the worst possibility for the next thing he's going to ask.

"So… Who would you want to sleep with? If you had to choose, that is." He asks quietly, scooting closer to Craig. The raven furrows his eyebrows slightly, debating his answer. His eyes dart around the room, falling briefly on anything but Kenny.

"You want me to be completely honest here?"

"Yep."

"No holding back?"

"Nope."

"The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Stop stalling, fuckwad!" Kenny says, laughing as he smacks Craig in the side of the head with the nearest pillow. Craig grabs the pillow and whacks Kenny in retaliation, making him fall against the wall in a fit of laughter.

"Alright, alright. But you can't make fun of me. And you've got to promise that nothing will change between us, no matter what my answer is." Despite the small icicle of pain that shoots through his chest, Kenny holds up his right hand and covers his heart with his left.

"I swear to god, nothing will change between us."

"Okay." Craig pauses to take a deep breath, holding it in as he gives his single word answer. "You."

"You'd fuck me?"

"Well, jesus, when you put it like that-"

"But… Me?" Kenny repeats in disbelief. "If this is some sort of sick prank I will pull your lungs out through your nose and shove them up your ass." The color drains from Craig's face and he shakes his head. For some sick, twisted reason… he feels like Kenny would actually do that.

"No!" He says, crossing his arms. Kenny's face lights up, any trace of disbelief and slight anger gone in a spit second.

"Then," He starts, leaning in slightly. "I'd assume you'd kiss me, because sex without kissing must blow." Craig blushes slightly, but nods, gravitating automatically towards the blonde across from him. "Would you let me kiss you right now?" Kenny finishes, drifting towards him until there's barely an inch of space between them. In a silent response, Craig presses their lips together gently, his eyes falling closed.

Instead of sparks between them, Kenny feels a fire start inside him, spreading from his lips down to the tips of his toes. He tilts his head slightly, resting his hand lightly on Craig's shoulder for leverage as he turns himself. Craig's hand falls onto Kenny's hip, dragging the thinner boy closer to him slowly.

In the end, it's Kenny who pulls away first.

"Wow," He says quietly, a smile spreading over his lips. Craig grins as he watches the little ring in Kenny's lip tilt ever so slightly.

"Ditto," He whispers, squeezing Kenny's hip gently.

"So you want nothing to change? Really?"

"Fuck, no." Craig smirks as he shakes his head, chuckling quietly.


	12. Chapter 11

Poison- Chapter 11

I've come to a halting conclusion: I like kissing Kenny way more than i should. I've thought about what it would feel like to actually do the action itself, but it's always better to experience it first-hand.

Turns out, Kenny likes to kiss me too.

"Oh, look at that one," Kenny says softly, pointing into the atmosphere. A glittery ball shoots across the wide expanse of sky before us, breaking apart the walls of deep blue that surround it. We're stargazing, right now. As stupid as this is going to sound, we used to do this before we started... whatever this happens to be. Nothing extremely significant ever really changed. It just means something different now; little things have more meaning than they used to. Whenever we watch movies together or go out with our friends, we share a blanket or we sit closer together. Kenny said that watching the stars calmed him down, so we'd come out to Stark's Pond to smoke. Nothing changed about that. But now it's different. More together, in a see. He's holding my hand, so i guess that counts for something.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask softly, glancing over at Kenny. I see that he's already staring at me, his face knit over with curiosity.

"Honestly," He starts, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "I was wondering if this was a date."

"It can be whatever we want it to be." I say, smiling slightly and returning the squeeze. "I like the sound of that, you know. We." Hesitant, Kenny leans over and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, scooting closer to lean his head on my shoulder.

Glancing down at him, i notice the lingering yellow mark of a bruise and remember what happened to him.

"Kenny?"

"Mm?" He hums, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he stubs out the cigarette he's holding on the toe of his sneakers. I make out matching ones littered over the pale surface, even in the darkness of the park.

"What happened to you? Just before school ended, when you came in with..." I trail off softly, my gaze lingering on the mark. Kenny eyes me wearily and fixes his bandana, covering it up.

"Before i tell you," He starts, leaning on his knees. "It wasn't my parents. Even if it was, it's not a regular occurrence. So don't freak out about that."

"Okay." I say slowly, encouraging him to continue. He stares at the hood of the car for a long time, fiddling with a loose string on his jeans.

"My brother, he... he kinda loses track of how much he drinks. Especially when he's stressed. And he is. His girlfriend's knocked up with his kid and he just lost his job, i don't blame him for wanting to soothe his nerves." Kenny pauses, glancing up at me with pink-tinged cheeks. Silent, i nod and pull him closer to me, rubbing his back. The next sentence out of his mouth sounds like more of a hiss then human words. "But that's not a good reason to morph into some violent, belligerent boozer who hits your little sister like she's a punching bag. He came home and freaked out. Something about the house smelling like nail polish, and that he already had a headache. He kept saying things about that, how bad it smells and everything. I don't remember exactly.

"Anyway, i heard my sister scream and automatically ran to her. I found Kevin and her in the kitchen. She was huddled into a corner, and Kevin was standing over her with his fist in the air. When i tried to stop him, he beat the crap out of me." He chews on his lip as he talks, looking everywhere but me.

"Kenny?" His eyes jerk up to me, the usual bright blue-green-gray surrounding his pupils dulled with embarrassment and fear. "That's not something to be ashamed of." His brows knit in confusion.

"What?"

"I think what you did... it was really good." A realization sets in on me as his face changes. "I-I mean, it sucks that you got beat up but, your reasoning was well placed."

"I know what you meant." Kenny says softly, laughing quietly. His expression falters. "I hate booze now, though. I guess it has a lot to do with seeing my brother in the state he comes home in constantly."

"Is that why you were freaked out about me drinking at the party the other night?" When Kenny nods, a pang of regret shoots through my chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drink as much as i seem to have. I hate drinking. I know how hard it is to deal with someone who's drunk more than they are sober." I confess quietly, swallowing hard.

"You do? Why?" Kenny stares at me wearing a mask of horror and concern.

"My dad," I say softly, rubbing the back of my neck. "He's been an alcoholic for as long as i can remember. I usually have to deal with him when he stumbles through the door."

"Oh," Kenny murmurs, chewing on the inside of his lip.

"Oh." I sigh, shrugging my shoulders.

"Thanks," He says softly, nestling into my side.

"For what?"

"For not asking right away. For giving me space about the whole thing." He smiles crookedly, shrugging. "I just feel like it needs to be said."

"You don't need to thank me," I say softly, looping an arm around his shoulders to make him more comfortable. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me spill all of that to you. I'm not very talkative when it comes to that stuff. Only Tweek know about it, and that's only because he spent the night on a bad day for dad."

"You're welcome." He heaves a long sigh, his eyes falling closed. His pale eyelashes rest on the cream-colored skin of his cheeks, his chest rising and falling evenly as he breathes in the crisp night air. The radio drifts through the open windows of my dad's blue pickup truck, adding to the calm air that's circling around us right now. As the night hums around us, i yawn quietly and feel my eyes start to drift closed.

"Do you want to leave? I could drive you home, it's pretty late already."

"What time is it?"

"Um..." I glance down at my phone, wincing when i see how late it is. "Twelve forty five." With a quiet sigh Kenny sits up and stretches, looking back at me.

"We probably should leave, then." He says, interlacing our fingers with a gentle squeeze. "This was a nice first date."

"We didn't do anything special, though. I feel bad that i didn't get to wow you."

"You're too boring to wow anyone." Kenny says, laughing and pulling me off the hood of the car. I love his laugh; it's deep and meaningful, always filled with joy. I love it most when i cause him to make the sound; the way his eyes light up, and a smile spreads over his face. He has crooked teeth, but i wouldn't have it any other way. "What are you looking at, you looser?" He mumbles, a mischievous look in his eyes.

I didn't even realize i was staring.

"Nothing," I mumble, rolling my eyes as a crooked grin spreads over my face. "Get in the car before i change my mind and make you walk home." Kenny smiles as he slides into the passenger seat, a satisfied look in his eyes.

"Craig?" He asks suddenly, turning down the radio.

"Mm?" I hum in response, glancing over at him in the passenger seat. He stares at the road ahead, the orange street lamps flashing across his expression every so often.

"Do your parents know?" He asks. I feel his eyes on me suddenly, and my fingers tense around the steering wheel.

"No. And i hope to god they have no idea." I mumble. Out of the corner of my eye, i see Kenny wilt in his seat and i sigh. "I'm too scared to tell them. They don't exactly support the whole "idea" of being gay."

"It's okay, you don't have to explain. Only Karen knows." He admits softly, fiddling with his hands in his lap. "But i think I'm going to tell my dad. I don't know how he'll react."

"You are?"

"Yeah, i think so. I want him to know, in a way."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I heard that McCormick boy is gay." Dad comments offhandedly, lazily flipping through the newspaper. My throat tightens. "I'm just glad i don't have to deal with anything like that."

"Thomas, please." Mom rolls her eyes and sumps sugar into her morning mug of coffee, toying with the spoon in her hand. "That boy is confused, he's too young to make decisions like that for himself." Sometimes i wonder why i even force myself to come to the table every morning. "Do you think his parents will try to do anything about it?"

I roll my eyes, staring down at my breakfast in distaste as i tune out my parents' conversation. _Sure, totally. It's is just a way of living, or a choice that people make. It's that easy to change, absolutely._

A twisty feeling took root in my chest last night when Kenny told me about what he was planning to do today, and it hasn't gotten any better since he told, apparently. I hope that it went well, i haven't talked to him this morning. The way he spoke about his dad was unsettling, to say the least. He never even mentioned his mother, which worries me more. I can feel a migraine coming on from this, as corny as it sounds.

It's a small town, and news gets around extremely fast. Especially bad news, which this sort of thing is unfortunately considered. Because as much as i want to tell my parents- which isn't very much, by the way- I feel like if i don't tell them, they'll find out. Which would be way worse. But i can't seem to drag the confidence needed to tell them from the twisting pile of nerves my chest has turned into within moments. I've only been with Kenny for nearly a week and I'm already worrying about someone finding out. It kept me up well past three in the morning and woke me up at six o'clock, just in time to watch the sunrise. I finally understand why Tweek wanted to cut down on coffee, I've already had three cups; I'm twitching in my sweatshirt.

"'S about time for you to get a girlfriend, boy. Make something of yourself." My dad comments, eyeing me narrowly around the sports section. I stay silent as i play around with my cereal, swirling around the Cheerios in my bowl to make different patterns.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You can't spend the rest of your life with all those little friends of yours." My mom chimes in from the fridge, pouring creamer into her coffee. Somehow i feel like the entire world is against me.

"I guess so." I say softly, my eyes following my sister as she wanders into the room. I hope that if he did, it went well. Because as much as i want to tell my parents- which isn't very much, by the way- I feel like if i don't tell them, they'll find out. Which would be way worse. But i can't seem to drag the confidence needed to tell them from the twisting pile of nerves my chest has turned into within moments. I've been with Kenny for nearly a week and I'm already worrying about someone finding out.

"Your senior year is coming up, sweetheart." Mom says, gently laying a hand on the back of my head. It only makes that slithering feeling in my chest worse. "I just want you to be happy for most of it."

"I can be happy without getting into a relationship with a girl, mom." I say, keeping my eyes down. She just sighs and straightens up, pulling her hand back to her side.

"I know that," She starts, offering me a small smile. "But i want you to have fun too. You're a very introverted person, Craig. It's time for you to open up to someone on a deeper level than your friends or even us. It would be good for you." Any normal person would absolutely hate to have a psychologist as a parent, but i despise it in a way that's hard to put into thoughts or words.

Before anyone else can try to convince me to try to get something i know i don't want to have, i place my bowl in the sink and retreat to my room with little more than a nod to the rest of my family.


	13. Chapter 12

Poison- Chapter 12

I stare through my window with distain, watching the fat raindrops coat the glass and streak down, leaving clear trails in their wake. Why does it have to rain today of all days? I haven't heard from Kenny all morning, other than a cryptically vague message after breakfast. It just said: talked to them. That's it. What am i supposed to do with that? I sigh heavily and rub my forehead, my brain pounding with the onset of a migraine.

I decide to just stop worrying for a little bit and walk over to my guitar, smiling slightly when i run my fingers over the glossy finish. Folding my legs, i sit on the ground and give the strings a light pluck to check the sound. After properly tuning the instrument, i set it properly in my lap and begin to play one of my favorite songs. Despite my horrible voice, i sing along to the melodies coming from the guitar in my hands.

_"Got a pinch of tobacco in my pocket, _

_I'm not going to roll it, no, I'm not going to smoke it til' we're_

_Staring at the stars and the rockets _

_Twinkling in the silvery night."_ I smile slightly and let my eyes fall closed, my fingers moving easily over the strings of my guitar.

_"Two sips of whiskey in the flask but I'm not going to drink 'em,_

_I swear I'll make it last, Til we're drinking out of the same glass again._

_"And though the sand may be washed by the sea,_

_And the old will be lost in the new._

_Well four will not wait for three,_

_But three never waited for two._

_And though you will not wait for me,_

_I'll wait for you."_ I love this song. I have since i first heard it. It's soft and it flows right, plus it's easy to play.

_"I've got a polaroid picture in my wallet,_

_I'm not going to tear it, no, I'm not going to spoil it._

_It's an unspoken heartbreak_

_A heartbroken handshake I'll take with me where I go._

_"And three words on the tip of my tongue,_

_Not to be spoken or sung_

_Or whispered to anyone_

_Til i scream them at the top of my lungs again._

_"And though the sand may be washed by the sea-"_

"You liar."

"And the old will be lo-" The syllable in my throat gets stretched and my fingers screech over the strings, making a horrifyingly shrill note. I spin around to face my window quickly, looking at the tufts of soaking wet blonde hair and wiry arms perched in the sill. "Kenny you scared the crap out of me." I hiss, placing my guitar back on its stand. I cross my arms and stride over to the other side of the room, watching Kenny hop gracefully onto my floor.

"Sorry," He mutters, shrugging and wrapping his arms around himself. It's hard to stay slightly pissed at him when he's like this; he looks like an abandoned puppy, with his dripping clothes and innocent eyes. I sigh, rolling my eyes.

"Come here," I command, pulling open my drawer and tossing him a t-shirt. As he pulls his damp clothes off i look for some sweatpants, tossing them at his feet when i find a pair.

"Now," I start, sitting on my bed and folding my legs. "Why am i a liar this time?" Kenny cracks a small smile, sitting down across from me.

"You told me you couldn't sing." He says, fiddling with the hem of the shirt i gave him. I've got to admit, it looks good on him. It's an old Superman shirt that's getting a little small on me, though it hangs off of him. The sweatpants do too. He looks hot in my clothes. I swallow hard and bite the inside of my lip, looking down.

"But i can't."

"That song i heard says otherwise." He folds his arms across his chest.

"I didn't know you were listening!" I cross my arms tightly over my chest and he rolls his eyes, waving his hand.

"Whatever you say. I heard what i heard. And i hope I'll be hearing more of it." He chews on his lip, looking down. "It's fucking freezing in here, dude." Rolling my eyes, i toss him a blanket from the foot of my bed and he wraps it around his shoulders, sinking into it.

"It's not that cold. Your hair is still wet. Do you want a towel or something?"

"No, i think I'll be okay." He says softly, shrugging. He looks tiny, wrapped up in a blanket like that; he's swimming in fabric. He looks lonely, and tired, and kinda scared. He reminds me of a little kid.

"What happened?" I ask softly, looping an arm around him and pulling him to my side. I feel him shrug under the mounds of cloth surrounding him.

"It wasn't supposed to go like that," He whispers, his Adam's apple bobbing. He winds his thin arms around my waist and leans into my shoulder, his damp hair soaking through my shirt. "I didn't mean to piss him off."

"He didn't take it well?"

"My dad was fine with it." Kenny shrugs, sighing heavily. "I think he was too drunk to even know what i was talking about. My brother overheard, and he said some really shitty things." I chew on the corner of my lip and nod, silently urging him along.

"He told me that my mom wouldn't have wanted her son to be gay." I blink a few times, surprised. "Then he started saying that i was a horrible person for leading a life like this and disappointing mom and stuff, which lead to him talking about how it was my fault that she died and-" Kenny cuts himself off, his voice growing tight.

"Oh, Kenny..." I whisper, stunned. His arms tighten around me and he shrugs again.

"I feel like he's right. I have thought about those things so many times..."

"No," I murmur, shaking my head and pulling him closer to me. "You couldn't do anything to help her, first of all. Second of all, you know that there's nothing wrong with you, or the way you live your life. Third of all, you're the most amazing person in South Park, okay? Don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise."

Kenny sniffs quietly, looking up at me.

"Really?"

"Really really." I offer him a small smile and he leans up, pulling me into a brief kiss. "Now," I start when he pulls away, what on earth could make you feel better? I'll do anything." A Cheshire Cat-like grin spreads over Kenny's face and he tilts his head.

"Anything?" He repeats lowly, smirking widely. I narrow my eyes at him as he shifts slightly closer. He presses our lips together gently, moving slowly when he feels my apprehension.

"Not that," I say when i pull away, my tone warning. His smile falls and he rolls his eyes. "My family is downstairs, and the walls aren't exactly thick."

"Goddammit." I turn red.

"I mean, we'll do it eventually. Just. Not now." I say softly, my arm tightening around him. He smiles slightly, rolling his eyes.

"Fine." He mutters, crossing his arms. "I guess my hand is okay for now." I burst out laughing, shaking my head. Kenny's smile grows immensely.

"You're an asshole," I chuckle, shoving him. Suddenly his phone buzzes from the pocket of his parka across the room and he moves to retrieve it, sighing when he reads the message.

"I've got to go," He mutters quietly, sighing heavily. "Karen needs me to come home. Apparently i agreed to help her paint her room or something."

"Let me walk you," I say, standing and popping my neck. He shakes his head and shrugs on his parka, shoving his hands into the pockets.

"No, it's pouring."

"That's the lamest excuse. I'm walking with you, don't be such a drama queen. And get that goddamn jacket off, it's soaked." I mutter, tossing him another one for him to wear. As he pulls it on he eyes me wearily, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What about you?"

"I'll take an umbrella," I shrug and slip on my shoes, walking downstairs with Kenny quickly and swiping an umbrella on my way out.

"So," Kenny starts, hovering close to my side as we stroll lazily down the sidewalk. "Why did you want to walk with me all the way across town in such shitty weather?" The rain cascades off the umbrella above us, sounding more like a waterfall than a rain shower. I watch it fall around us, the droplets blending together to look like a single gray mass that surrounds us both.

"I felt like it." I say softly, tilting my head down at him. He cradles his jacket and clothes close to his chest, his damp hair drying out slowly and standing off his head slightly. "Plus, i didn't really want to leave you alone out here." He smiles softly, leaning against me and laying his head on my shoulder briefly.

"Thanks."

"Mmhm." After this we fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the rain bouncing off the top of the umbrella and the water flowing around out feet.

All of a sudden, a huge gust of wind sweeps the umbrella out of my hands, sending it cartwheeling up and across the street, carrying it away quickly. I curse loudly and throw my hands over my head, watching as Kenny scrambles to force the hood up.

"Here!" He shouts over the rain, tossing his parka at me. I can't help the small smile that spreads over my face as i drape it over my shoulder, pulling the hood up quickly. We start to run down the street, slipping and sliding in the mud as we go. I feel my shoes lose traction and suddenly I'm on my ass, gliding down the slight hill we're on as my hands flail around me. I hear Kenny laughing hysterically through the rain, his voice carrying up to me loudly. The laughing cuts out and i hear an 'oof,' and when i look back Kenny is sliding towards me quickly. Grabbing onto the back of his jacket, i spin him around and we both break into laughter as we slow to a stop. Kenny pulls me to my feet and we rush the rest of the way to his house, our laughter loud through the rain.

"Holy crap!" He shouts, leaning against the door as it shuts behind us. We're both soaked; there's a huge brown spot on my ass now and our clothes hang off of us awkwardly, chilling me to the bone. I grip the sleeves of Kenny's parka around me, smiling dopily. I'm wearing his parka.

"Well that was an experience." I say, chuckling as my teeth clatter together. Kenny nods, shifting from foot to foot.

"Karen!" He yells into the house, his shoulders hunching in on themselves to keep him warm. "Can you bring me some towels?" When his little sister emerges from the hallway holding two towels my smile grows and i give her a small wave. She searches me curiously, her blue eyes roaming up and down my frame.

"Is this him?" She mutters, leaning close to her brother. Her thin arms fold tightly across her chest and she narrows her eyes, an eyebrow raised. I look to Kenny and he shrugs.

"Yeah," He says, smiling slightly at Karen. Her face shifts immediately, a crooked grin spreading over her face.

"He's cute." She beams, handing me a towel and bubbling off into another room. Kenny laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Heh, sorry about her," He says softly, looking sheepish now. "She can be a bit protective."

"It's okay," I say, shrugging. "My sister would probably throw me to the wolves if she had the chance, so. It's kinda cool. But Karen looks like she could dismember me." Kenny laughs loudly, the smile lighting up his features.

"She could, but she won't." He says softly, chuckling.

After we get mostly dry, Kenny walks me to the door, saying that i could wear his jacket home. But "only because you were dumb enough not to bring your own." Whatever. I'll take what i can get. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips before shutting the door behind me, waving from the window as i walk down the street.

Even when Kenny's upset, he makes me feel ten times better than i had felt in a long time.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello guys! I'm sorry for the crappyness of my last few chapters, there have been things going on. Anyway i'm supposed to be going to school tomorrow, which means updates might be less frequent. BUT I WILL BE WORKING ON IT DON'T YOU WORRY. I'm sorry if this sucks :/**


	14. Chapter 13

Poison- Chapter 13

I hate this feeling. The feeling of white hot iron filling up your chest cavity and preventing you from breathing or talking. It cuts off oxygen flow to your brain, which makes it really hard to form actual words. _It's just a simple question, you idiot. It doesn't insinuate anything. It doesn't show anything. Deep breaths. You're just asking to borrow the car._

"Dad?" I mumble, wringing my hands together in my sweatshirt pocket. My father grunts in reply, his eyes glued to the TV screen as the Denver Broncos scramble across a football field. "Can i borrow the car tonight?" Dad points the remote at the cable box, pausing his game to furrow his eyebrows at me.

"The hell could you possibly need it for?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his brown leather armchair. "Everyone is going to be at the Black's house for the annual barbecue and fireworks show. Ain't you comin'?" His old Southern accent tends to come out when he's watching football. It also appears when he's angry. It aggravates the piss out of me.

"I know," I say, looking down and shrugging. _Come on, Tucker. You've rehearsed this a thousand times, it's not that hard._ "Tweek needs a ride; he lives on the other side of town. I told him he could ride with me." I feel my father's heavy gaze on me for a few more moments before he tosses me the keys, muttering about not fucking up his truck. Praising the heavens, i turn on my heel and walk out to the driveway, watching the sun slowly dip below the mountains. Perfect.

I told Kenny that i would pick him up around seven thirty, which is in about five minutes. Thankfully, we already have some blankets and pillows stowed away in the narrow back seat, so i didn't need to sneak those out as well. And, for the record, Kenny and i will be watching the fireworks show, just like we always do. But, i don't feel like getting drunk this year, so we're going to this place a little further up the mountain that Kenny found a few years ago. He says the street is still visible from his spot, and the fireworks look really cool silhouetted against the trees. I'm glad we could be alone together; i never did like crowds, but i love watching the show the Blacks always put on. It tends to be long and extravagant.

I pull up in front of Kenny's house, already spotting him waiting on the porch. From where i am in the street i hear shouting coming from the house, along with the sounds of glass shattering and things smashing against the wall. When Kenny makes it to the passenger side door there's a distant look of sadness in his eyes.

"Hey," He greets softly, leaning over the center console. He grabs fistfuls of my hat and smashes our lips together before i can get a word in, his tongue glossing teasingly over my bottom lip. He pulls away after a moment, his expression considerably brighter than when i first saw him. "Sorry. I needed that."

"'S okay," I murmur, shrugging as i pull away from the curb. It's hard not to grin widely when Kenny does things like that to me. I like it a lot. "So where is this magical spot of yours?" His mischievous smile grows.

"I'll just direct you as we go," He says softly, reaching forward to flick on the radio.

After following a winding dirt path up the mountain and park in a small alcove that lacks a large amount of trees, we set up the thick wool camping blanket on the hood of the truck, along with a couple pillows to make it a bit more comfortable. We leave the radio on a soft rock station, adding to the calm setting. Encircling Kenny's shoulders gently, i pull him to my side and he leans on my shoulder, a small smile blooming over his face.

"So," He starts off quietly, looking up at me curiously. "Does Mr. Spaceman actually know anything about the constellations? Or was it just a simple childhood dream that he would travel among them?" I grin slightly at him, shoving him gently.

"No," I mutter, my gaze traveling back to the sky. "I know a few of them. But i liked the stories more." I admit quietly, shrugging.

"Really?" Kenny asks softly, tilting his head. I nod and he points to the sky, his fingers dim and pale against the dark velvety evening. "What's the story behind Orion?"

"One of my favorites." I start, smiling widely. "Orion's father was the god of the sea, Neptune, and his mother was the queen of the Amazons, Euryale. He inherited his mother's great hunting abilities, and became the greatest hunter in the world. But, with that, he got a huge ego. So the goddess of the hunt, Diana, sent a tiny scorpion to kill him." I explain, my smile growing.

"Interesting." Kenny murmurs. "He was essentially killed by his own vanity."

"Exactly." I say, nodding. I hear Kenny sigh quietly, nestling deeper into my side. "What?" I ask quietly, my arm tightening around me.

"It happened today." He whispers, swallowing hard as his eyes fall closed. A cold feeling sets into my bones and i raise an eyebrow.

"It?"

"I found her today. Four years ago today."

"Oh."

"Oh." He repeats under his breath, opening his eyes. They're glossy with tears and he wipes at his face, burying it in my side.

"Its okay, Kenny." I murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "You don't have to hold it in." As i start to rub comforting circles into his back, i hear soft sniffles coming from him.

"It was awful," He says, his voice muffled by my side. "It was absolutely horrifying. If i hadn't done what i did, she would be here right now. No wonder Kevin blames me. It's all my fault. All of it." Jesus Christ. Is that what he's been holding in himself for four years?

"Kenny," I start quietly, shaking my head. "You know that's not true."

"But it is." Kenny lifts his face from my shirt, his lip trembling as he speaks. I've never seen him so torn up. It breaks my heart. "If i was home five minutes earlier than i was, nothing would be like it is now."

"You can't obsess over five minutes like that, Ken." I say quietly, shaking my head. "In five minutes so much could happen. It's possible for someone to be born within five minutes too. Someone could die, someone could be born, someone could win the lottery and still someone else could finally hit platinum on their first album. All of that can, has and will happen in five minutes."

"But i was late. It's my fault." He squeaks, his voice breaking.

"You can't obsess over what you did wrong, because even if you were there it might not have changed anything." He wipes at his face, more tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Okay." He whispers, nodding. "I'll try to stop blaming myself. You're right." A small smile spreads over my face and i press a kiss to his forehead, pulling him closer to my side.

"Good. Because you don't deserve that." A wobbly smile fights its way out of Kenny's mask of sadness and he presses our lips together again, tilting his head and wrapping his arms around my neck.

A firework explodes loudly from in front of us, spraying a brilliant white gold over the expanse of darkness coating the sky. We pull away and curl into each other, watching the show in silence as the radio plays from inside the car.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello guys! im so sorry for the lack of updates, and i also apologize for how short this chapter is. I have started working on the next chapter, and a few other projects i'm hoping to get up on here. Thanks for reading, all reviews are appreciated, good or bad. Wish me luck!**


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